Curs’d be that wretch (Death’s factor sure) who brought Dire swords into the peaceful world, and taught Smiths (who before could only make.
ABRAHAM COWLEYThis a scene of changes, and to be constant in Nature were inconstancy.
More Abraham Cowley Quotes
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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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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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Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
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The getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey.
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Awake, awake, my Lyre!And tell thy silent master’s humble taleIn sounds that may prevail;Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire
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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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What a brave privilege is it to be free from all contentions, from all envying or being envied, from receiving or paying all kinds of ceremonies!
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Man is too near all kinds of beasts,–a fawning dog, a roaring lion, a thieving fox, a robbing wolf, a dissembling crocodile, a treacherous decoy, and a rapacious vulture.
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To be a husbandman, is but a retreat from the city; to be a philosopher, from the world; or rather, a retreat from the world, as it is man’s, into the world, as it is God’s.
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Does not the passage of Moses and the Israelites into the Holy Land yield incomparably more poetic variety than the voyages of Ulysses or Aeneas?
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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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Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
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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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For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
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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.
ABRAHAM COWLEY