For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
ABRAHAM COWLEYAh! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man’s left to epitomize!
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I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that
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Thus each extreme to equal danger tends, Plenty, as well as Want, can sep’rate friends.
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Thus would I double my life’s fading space;For he that runs it well, runs twice his race.
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Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends; not on number, but the choice of friends.
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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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Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!
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Happy insect! what can be In happiness compared to thee? Fed with nourishment divine, The dewy morning’s gentle wine!
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The getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey.
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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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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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Neither the praise nor the blame is our own.
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Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
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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.
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The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
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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.
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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.
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Books should, not Business, entertain the Light; And Sleep, as undisturb’d as Death, the Night.
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Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone, That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.
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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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“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-day is ours; what do we fear? To-day is ours; we have it here. Let’s treat it kindly, that it may Wish, at least, with us to stay.
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There 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!
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What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?
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Water and air He for the Tenor chose, Earth made the Base, the Treble Fame arose,
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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 COWLEY