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.”
ABRAHAM COWLEYWhy 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?
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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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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I might be master at last of a small house and a large garden, with very moderate conveniences joined to them, and there dedicate the remainder of my life to the culture of them and the study of nature.
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All the world’s bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
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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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As for being much known by sight, and pointed out, I cannot comprehend the honor that lies withal; whatsoever it be, every mountebank has it more than the best doctor.
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Unbind the charms that in slight fables lie and teach that truth is truest poesy.
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Neither the praise nor the blame is our own.
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Build yourself a book-nest to forget the world without.
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But what is woman? Only one of nature’s agreeable blunders.
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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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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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Water and air He for the Tenor chose, Earth made the Base, the Treble Fame arose,
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The present is an eternal now.
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Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
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May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, And many books, both true.
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I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them; I have lived today.
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I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that
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Nothing in Nature’s sober found, But an eternal Health goes round. Fill up the Bowl then, fill it high
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:Though so exalted sheAnd I so lowly beTell her, such different notes make all thy harmony.
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Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
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Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
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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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Both wise, and both delightful too. And since Love ne’er will from me flee, A mistress moderately fair, And good as Guardian angels are, Only belov’d and loving me.
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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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Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
ABRAHAM COWLEY