Happy insect! what can be In happiness compared to thee? Fed with nourishment divine, The dewy morning’s gentle wine!
ABRAHAM COWLEYHope is the most hopeless thing of all.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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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.”
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Solitude can be used well by very few people. They who do must have a knowledge of the world to see the foolishness of it, and enough virtue to despise all the vanity.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
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.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Hope! fortune’s cheating lottery; when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
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 COWLEY -
It was not sleep that made him nod, he said, But too great weight and largeness of his head.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
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.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
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.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone, That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Books should, not Business, entertain the Light; And Sleep, as undisturb’d as Death, the Night.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
His time’s forever, everywhere his place.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends; not on number, but the choice of friends.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
To th’ active Moon a quick brisk stroke he gave, To Saturn’s string a touch more sore and grave.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
ABRAHAM COWLEY