Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilirate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature.
WILLIAM COWPERTo impute our recovery to medicine, and to carry our view no further, is to rob God of His honor, and is saying in effect that He has parted with the keys of life and death, and, by giving to a drug the power to heal us, has placed our lives out of His own reach.
More William Cowper Quotes
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The rich are too indolent, the poor too weak, to bear the insupportable fatigue of thinking.
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Great offices will have great talents, and God gives to every man the virtue, temper, understanding, taste, that lifts him into life, and lets him fall just in the niche he was ordained to fill.
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In a fleshly tomb, I am buried above ground.
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Still ending, and beginning still.
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Sends Nature forth the daughter of the skies… To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
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Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men; Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
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Pleasure is labour too, and tires as much.
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God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.
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A life of ease is a difficult pursuit.
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England with all thy faults, I love thee still– My country! and, while yet a nook is left Where English minds and manners may be found, Shall be constrained to love thee.
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The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.
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Blest be the art that can immortalize,–the art that baffles time’s tyrannic claim to quench it.
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To impute our recovery to medicine, and to carry our view no further, is to rob God of His honor, and is saying in effect that He has parted with the keys of life and death, and, by giving to a drug the power to heal us, has placed our lives out of His own reach.
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Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another’s pain.
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The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flow’r. Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.
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O solitude, where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place.
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What peaceful hours I once enjoy’d! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill.
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The bird that flutters least is longest on the wing.
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Perhaps thou gav’st me, though unseen, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
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A fool must now and then be right, by chance
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Absence of occupation is not rest.
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Some people are more nice than wise.
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Alas! if my best Friend, who laid down His life for me, were to remember all the instances in which I have neglected Him, and to plead them against me in judgment, where should I hide my guilty head in the day of recompense?
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Solitude, seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave; a sepulchre in which the living lie, where all good qualities grow sick and die
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Truth is the golden girdle of the globe.
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Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.
WILLIAM COWPER