And the tear that is wiped with a little address, May be follow’d perhaps by a smile.
WILLIAM COWPERHe finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not color’d like his own, and having pow’r T’ enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
More William Cowper Quotes
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Pride made the devil, and the devil made sin; So God made a cole-pit to put the devil in.
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Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame; He hides behind a magisterial air He own offences, and strips others’ bare.
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Ceremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth.
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In a fleshly tomb, I am buried above ground.
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Absence of occupation is not rest; A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.
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He that has seen both sides of fifty has lived to little purpose if he has no other views of the world than he had when he was much younger.
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All we behold is miracle.
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Remorse begets reform.
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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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Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, but God never will.
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Books are not seldom talismans and spells.
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How happy it is to believe, with a steadfast assurance, that our petitions are heard even while we are making them; and how delightful to meet with a proof of it in the effectual and actual grant of them.
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Nature is a good name for an effect whose cause is God.
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Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon their knees.
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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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Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another’s pain.
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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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Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.
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This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life’s long race.
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Tea – the cups that cheer but not inebriate.
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I am out of humanity’s reach.I must finish my journey alone,Never hear the sweet music of speech;I start at the sound of my own.
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Oh to have a lodge in some vast wilderness. Where rumors of oppression and deceit, of unsuccessful and successful wars may never reach me anymore.
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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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The still small voice is wanted.
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Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.
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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.
WILLIAM COWPER