Ah, yet, e’er I descend to th’ grave, May I a small House and a large Garden have. And a few Friends, and many Books both true
ABRAHAM COWLEYNothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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This a scene of changes, and to be constant in Nature were inconstancy.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
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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Our yesterday’s to-morrow now is gone, And still a new to-morrow does come on. We by to-morrow draw out all our store, Till the exhausted well can yield no more.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
When Harvey’s violent passion she did see, Began to tremble and to flee; Took sanctuary, like Daphne, in a tree
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Hope! fortune’s cheating lottery; when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Does not the passage of Moses and the Israelites into the Holy Land yield incomparably more poetic variety than the voyages of Ulysses or Aeneas?
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
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His time’s forever, everywhere his place.
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The liberty of a private man, in being master of his own time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of his country.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
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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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Why to mute fish should’st thou thyself discoverAnd not to me, thy no less silent lover?
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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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Nature waits upon thee still, And thy verdant cup does fill; ‘Tis fill’d wherever thou dost tread, Nature’s self’s thy Ganymede.
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Poets by Death are conquer’d but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
ABRAHAM COWLEY