For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
ABRAHAM COWLEYThe 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.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
-
-
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.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Let’s banish business, banish sorrow; To the gods belong to-morrow.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Awake, awake, my Lyre!And tell thy silent master’s humble taleIn sounds that may prevail;Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire
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 -
Nay, in death’s hand, the grape-stone proves As strong as thunder is in Jove’s.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
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.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Hope! fortune’s cheating lottery; when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
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
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends; not on number, but the choice of friends.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
When Harvey’s violent passion she did see, Began to tremble and to flee; Took sanctuary, like Daphne, in a tree
ABRAHAM COWLEY






