Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.
ABRAHAM COWLEYBut what is woman? Only one of nature’s agreeable blunders.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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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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Thus each extreme to equal danger tends, Plenty, as well as Want, can sep’rate friends.
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What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
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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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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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This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
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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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Poets by Death are conquer’d but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
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What a brave privilege is it to be free from all contentions, from all envying or being envied, from receiving or paying all kinds of ceremonies!
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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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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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All this world’s noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
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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?
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May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, And many books, both true.
ABRAHAM COWLEY