Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
ABRAHAM COWLEYThe Sunflow’r, thinking ’twas for him foul shame To nap by daylight, strove t’ excuse the blame
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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This a scene of changes, and to be constant in Nature were inconstancy.
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But what is woman? Only one of nature’s agreeable blunders.
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The Sunflow’r, thinking ’twas for him foul shame To nap by daylight, strove t’ excuse the blame
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There Daphne’s Lover stopped, and thought it much The very leaves of her to touch: But Harvey, our Apollo, stopp’d not so; Into the Bark and Root he after her did go!
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It is a hard and nice subject for a man to speak of himself: it grates his own heart to say anything of disparagement, and the reader’s ear to hear anything of praise from him.
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Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high, Thou who art under ground to lie? Thou sow’st and plantest, but no fruit must see, For death, alas! is reaping thee.
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Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
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Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
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In fields d’or or d’argent; but, if heraldry were guided by reason, a plough in a field arable would be the most noble and ancient arms.”
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Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
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Coy Nature, (which remain’d, though aged grown, A beauteous virgin still, enjoy’d by none, Nor seen unveil’d by anyone),
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Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
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A mighty pain to love it is, And ’tis a pain that pain to miss; But, of all pains, the greatest pain Is to love, but love in vain.
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Thus would I double my life’s fading space;For he that runs it well, runs twice his race.
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Life for delays and doubts no time does give, None ever yet made haste enough to live.
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Awake, awake, my Lyre!And tell thy silent master’s humble taleIn sounds that may prevail;Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire
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Enjoy the present hour, Be thankful for the past, And neither fear nor wish Th’ approaches of the last.
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Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
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The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
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“We may talk what we please,” he cries in his enthusiasm for the oldest of the arts, “of lilies, and lions rampant, and spread eagles
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Man is too near all kinds of beasts,–a fawning dog, a roaring lion, a thieving fox, a robbing wolf, a dissembling crocodile, a treacherous decoy, and a rapacious vulture.
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Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
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Curs’d be that wretch (Death’s factor sure) who brought Dire swords into the peaceful world, and taught Smiths (who before could only make.
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Much will always wanting be To him who much desires.
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The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man’s left to epitomize!
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Solitude can be used well by very few people. They who do must have a knowledge of the world to see the foolishness of it, and enough virtue to despise all the vanity.
ABRAHAM COWLEY