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Books should, not Business, entertain the Light; And Sleep, as undisturb’d as Death, the Night.

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Book Business Death Entertain Light Night Sleep

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

His time’s forever, everywhere his place.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Everywhere Forever Place Time
Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Company Life Solitary Wretched
:Though so exalted sheAnd I so lowly beTell her, such different notes make all thy harmony.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Exalted Harmony Make Note Tell Woman
There have been fewer friends on earth than kings.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Earth Fewer Friend King
Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Cheerful Rose Smile Temple Twine Wine
The present is an eternal now.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Eternal Now Present
Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Build Eternity Isthmus Life Proudly Two
Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Cottage Country Humble Meanest Palace Proud Scorn Sleep
To th’ active Moon a quick brisk stroke he gave, To Saturn’s string a touch more sore and grave.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Active Brisk Gave Grave Moon Quick Saturn Sore
Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Betray Gem Jewel Lying Night Stone Unseen
Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Friend Plenty Separate Want Well
Poets by Death are conquer’d but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Conquer Death Over Poet Triumph
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

Doe Draw Gone Morrow New Store Yesterday Yield
When Harvey’s violent passion she did see, Began to tremble and to flee; Took sanctuary, like Daphne, in a tree
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Daphne Flee Harvey Passion Sanctuary Tree Tremble Violent
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?
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Art Dost Heap Left Lying Man Wealth Worse
Much will always wanting be To him who much desires.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Always Desire Much Want

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