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.
ABRAHAM COWLEYCuriosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
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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Life for delays and doubts no time does give, None ever yet made haste enough to live.
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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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May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, And many books, both true.
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:Though so exalted sheAnd I so lowly beTell her, such different notes make all thy harmony.
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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
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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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I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that
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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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The world’s a scene of changes.
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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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Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!
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All the world’s bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
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There have been fewer friends on earth than kings.
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Nay, in death’s hand, the grape-stone proves As strong as thunder is in Jove’s.
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Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
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It is a hard and nice subject for a man to speak of himself: it grates his own heart to say anything of disparagement, and the reader’s ear to hear anything of praise from him.
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Life is an incurable disease.
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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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Gold begets in brethren hate; Gold in families debate; Gold does friendship separate; Gold does civil wars create.
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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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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 all the Glasses there; for why Should every Creature Drink but I? Why, Man of Morals, tell me why?
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To-day is ours; what do we fear? To-day is ours; we have it here. Let’s treat it kindly, that it may Wish, at least, with us to stay.
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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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Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
ABRAHAM COWLEY