Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
ABRAHAM COWLEYLife is an incurable disease.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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The motions strait, and round, and swift, and slow, And short and long, were mixt and woven so, Did in such artful Figures smoothly fall, As made this decent measur’d dance of all. And this is Musick.
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Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
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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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This a scene of changes, and to be constant in Nature were inconstancy.
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And I myself a Catholic will be, So far at least, great saint, to pray to thee. Hail, Bard triumphant! and some care bestow On us, the Poets militant below.
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Why dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit, Or what is worse, be left by it? Why dost thou load thyself when thou ‘rt to fly, Oh, man! ordain’d to die?
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When Israel was from bondage led,Led by the Almighty’s handFrom out of foreign land,The great sea beheld and fled.
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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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All this world’s noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
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Happy insect! what can be In happiness compared to thee? Fed with nourishment divine, The dewy morning’s gentle wine!
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Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.
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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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Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.
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Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise, He who defers this work from day to day, Does on a river’s bank expecting stay
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Hope! fortune’s cheating lottery; when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!
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Build yourself a book-nest to forget the world without.
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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.
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Gold begets in brethren hate; Gold in families debate; Gold does friendship separate; Gold does civil wars create.
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Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends; not on number, but the choice of friends.
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Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone, That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.
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His time’s forever, everywhere his place.
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Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
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It was not sleep that made him nod, he said, But too great weight and largeness of his head.
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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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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.
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Life is an incurable disease.
ABRAHAM COWLEY