Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide.
JOHN DRYDENMighty things from small beginnings grow.
More John Dryden Quotes
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Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more; Fate was not mine, nor am I Fate’s: Souls know no conquerors.
JOHN DRYDEN -
He is a perpetual fountain of good sense.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Blown roses hold their sweetness to the last.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Truth is the object of our understanding, as good is of our will; and the understanding can no more be delighted with a lie than the will can choose an apparent evil.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Keen appetite And quick digestion wait on you and yours.
JOHN DRYDEN -
And plenty makes us poor.
JOHN DRYDEN -
The sooner you treat your son as a man, the sooner he will be one.
JOHN DRYDEN -
There is a proud modesty in merit.
JOHN DRYDEN -
And that the Scriptures, though not everywhere Free from corruption, or entire, or clear, Are uncorrupt, sufficient, clear, entire In all things which our needful faith require.
JOHN DRYDEN -
When we view elevated ideas of Nature, the result of that view is admiration, which is always the cause of pleasure.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Plots, true or false, are necessary things, To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.
JOHN DRYDEN -
War seldom enters but where wealth allures.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Courage from hearts and not from numbers grows.
JOHN DRYDEN -
We must beat the iron while it is hot, but we may polish it at leisure.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Merit challenges envy.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Since a true knowledge of nature gives us pleasure, a lively imitation of it, either in poetry or painting, must produce a much greater; for both these arts are not only true imitations of nature, but of the best nature.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise!
JOHN DRYDEN -
But far more numerous was the herd of such, Who think too little, and who talk too much.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Virgil and Horace were the severest writers of the severest age.
JOHN DRYDEN -
A farce is that in poetry which grotesque (caricature) is in painting. The persons and actions of a farce are all unnatural, and the manners false, that is, inconsistent with the characters of mankind; and grotesque painting is the just resemblance of this.
JOHN DRYDEN -
What, start at this! when sixty years have spread. Their grey experience o’er thy hoary head? Is this the all observing age could gain? Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?
JOHN DRYDEN -
Lucky men are favorites of Heaven.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Long pains, with use of bearing, are half eased.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Love is a passion Which kindles honor into noble acts.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Many things impossible to thought have been by need to full perfection brought.
JOHN DRYDEN -
When I consider life, ’tis all a cheat; Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit; Trust on, and think tomorrow will repay. Tomorrow’s falser than the former day.
JOHN DRYDEN