And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.
EDMUND SPENSERFor there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.
More Edmund Spenser Quotes
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Yet is there one more cursed than they all, That canker-worm, that monster, jealousie, Which eats the heart and feeds upon the gall, Turning all love’s delight to misery, Through fear of losing his felicity.
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Through knowledge we behold the world’s creation, How in his cradle first he fostered was; And judge of Nature’s cunning operation, How things she formed of a formless mass.
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Laws ought to be fashioned unto the manners and conditions of the people whom they are meant to benefit, and not imposed upon them according to the simple rule of right.
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Her angel’s face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place.
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All love is sweet Given or returned And its familiar voice wearies not ever.
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Hasty wrath and heedless hazardy do breed repentance late and lasting infamy.
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But O the exceeding grace Of highest God, that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed angels, he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe.
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Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.
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Discord oft in music makes the sweeter lay.
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In one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate.
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So much more profitable and gracious is doctrine by example than by rule.
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Be bold, and everywhere be bold.
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Sweet breathing Zephyrus did softly play, A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titan’s beams, which then did glister fair.
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Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? – Epithalamion
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Fretting grief the enemy of life.
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Make haste therefore, sweet love, whilst it is prime, For none can call again the passed time.
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Man’s wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.
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To be wise and eke to love, Is granted scarce to gods above.
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For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.
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All that in this world is great or gay, Doth, as a vapor, vanish and decay.
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Fresh spring the herald of love’s mighty king.
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So passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortal life the leaf, the bud, the flower.
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Who would ever care to do brave deed, Or strive in virtue others to excel, If none should yield him his deserved meed Due praise, that is the spur of doing well? For if good were not praised more than ill, None would choose goodness of his own free will.
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For if good were not praised more than ill, None would choose goodness of his own free will.
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For that which all men then did virtue call, Is now called vice; and that which vice was hight, Is now hight virtue, and so used of all: Right now is wrong, and wrong that was is right.
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The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.
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