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.
ABRAHAM COWLEYI 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.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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All the world’s bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Unbind the charms that in slight fables lie and teach that truth is truest poesy.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Books should, not Business, entertain the Light; And Sleep, as undisturb’d as Death, the Night.
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 -
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.
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 -
The world’s a scene of changes.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
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 -
Much will always wanting be To him who much desires.
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 -
The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made themselves, under whatsoever form it be of government
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
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.
ABRAHAM COWLEY -
Life for delays and doubts no time does give, None ever yet made haste enough to live.
ABRAHAM COWLEY