Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
ABRAHAM COWLEYThere Daphne’s Lover stopped, and thought it much The very leaves of her to touch: But Harvey, our Apollo, stopp’d not so; Into the Bark and Root he after her did go!
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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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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Life for delays and doubts no time does give, None ever yet made haste enough to live.
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Let’s banish business, banish sorrow; To the gods belong to-morrow.
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For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
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Unbind the charms that in slight fables lie and teach that truth is truest poesy.
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Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high, Thou who art under ground to lie? Thou sow’st and plantest, but no fruit must see, For death, alas! is reaping thee.
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Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
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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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The Sunflow’r, thinking ’twas for him foul shame To nap by daylight, strove t’ excuse the blame
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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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There is some help for all the defects of fortune; for, if a man cannot attain to the length of his wishes, he may have his remedy by cutting of them shorter.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
:Though so exalted sheAnd I so lowly beTell her, such different notes make all thy harmony.
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I confess I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a little feast.
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God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
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Enjoy the present hour, Be thankful for the past, And neither fear nor wish Th’ approaches of the last.
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Poets by Death are conquer’d but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
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The world’s a scene of changes.
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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.”
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To th’ active Moon a quick brisk stroke he gave, To Saturn’s string a touch more sore and grave.
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The getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey.
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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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His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets might Be wrong; his life, I’m sure, was in the right.
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This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
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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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Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
The monster London laugh at me.
ABRAHAM COWLEY