Ill habits gather unseen degrees, as brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
JOHN DRYDENShakespeare was the Homer, or father of our dramatic poets;Jonson was theVirgil, the pattern of elaborate writing; I admire him, but I love Shakespeare.
More John Dryden Quotes
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Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence.
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For your ignorance is the mother of your devotion to me.
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Thus, while the mute creation downward bend Their sight, and to their earthly mother ten, Man looks aloft; and with erected eyes Beholds his own hereditary skies.
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Time glides with undiscover’d haste; The future but a length behind the past.
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A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth.
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Errors like straws upon the surface flow, Who would search for pearls to be grateful for often must dive below.
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Freedom which in no other land will thrive, Freedom an English subject’s sole prerogative.
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The love of liberty with life is given, And life itself the inferior gift of Heaven.
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It is a madness to make fortune the mistress of events, because in herself she is nothing, can rule nothing, but is ruled by prudence.
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What passion cannot music raise and quell!
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All delays are dangerous in war.
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And write whatever Time shall bring to pass With pens of adamant on plates of brass.
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Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair.
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Our vows are heard betimes! and Heaven takes care To grant, before we can conclude the prayer: Preventing angels met it half the way, And sent us back to praise, who came to pray.
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Content with poverty, my soul I arm; And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.
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He who trusts secrets to a servant makes him his master.
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As one that neither seeks, nor shuns his foe.
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Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence.
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Virtue is her own reward.
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Trust on and think To-morrow will repay; To-morrow’s falser than the former day; Lies worse; and while it says, we shall be blest With some new Joys, cuts off what we possest.
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Trust reposed in noble natures obliges them the more.
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The trumpet’s loud clangor Excites us to arms.
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The thought of being nothing after death is a burden insupportable to a virtuous man.
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Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend.
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Silence in times of suffering is the best.
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Tis a good thing to laugh at any rate; and if a straw can tickle a man, it is an instrument of happiness.
JOHN DRYDEN