Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
ABRAHAM COWLEYWhy 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.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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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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Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
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Life is an incurable disease.
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“We may talk what we please,” he cries in his enthusiasm for the oldest of the arts, “of lilies, and lions rampant, and spread eagles
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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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When Harvey’s violent passion she did see, Began to tremble and to flee; Took sanctuary, like Daphne, in a tree
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Thus each extreme to equal danger tends, Plenty, as well as Want, can sep’rate friends.
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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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The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made themselves, under whatsoever form it be of government
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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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Life for delays and doubts no time does give, None ever yet made haste enough to live.
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Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
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This a scene of changes, and to be constant in Nature were inconstancy.
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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 spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man’s left to epitomize!
ABRAHAM COWLEY






