What passion cannot music raise and quell!
JOHN DRYDENGood sense and good-nature are never separated, though the ignorant world has thought otherwise. Good-nature, by which I mean beneficence and candor, is the product of right reason.
More John Dryden Quotes
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Nothing to build, and all things to destroy.
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Love is a passion Which kindles honor into noble acts.
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They think too little who talk too much.
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Sure there’s contagion in the tears of friends.
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We must beat the iron while it is hot, but we may polish it at leisure.
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Kings fight for empires, madmen for applause.
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Take not away the life you cannot give: For all things have an equal right to live.
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Long pains, with use of bearing, are half eased.
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For what can power give more than food and drink, To live at ease, and not be bound to think?
JOHN DRYDEN -
Fame then was cheap, and the first comer sped; And they have kept it since by being dead.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise!
JOHN DRYDEN -
Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail: But common interest always will prevail; And pity never ceases to be shown To him who makes the people’s wrongs his own.
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If thou dost still retain the same ill habits, the same follies, too, still thou art bound to vice, and still a slave.
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And write whatever Time shall bring to pass With pens of adamant on plates of brass.
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Faith is to believe what you do not yet see: the reward for this faith is to see what you believe. Thus all below is strength, and all above is grace.
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Beware the fury of a patient man.
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Tis a good thing to laugh at any rate; and if a straw can tickle a man, it is an instrument of happiness.
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God never made his work for man to mend.
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For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss.
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Our souls sit close and silently within, And their own web from their own entrails spin; And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.
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Silence in times of suffering is the best.
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Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes… Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.
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By education most have been misled.
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The trumpet’s loud clangor Excites us to arms.
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For truth has such a face and such a mien, as to be loved needs only to be seen.
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Since every man who lives is born to die, And none can boast sincere felicity, With equal mind, what happens, let us bear, Nor joy nor grieve too much for things beyond our care. Like pilgrims to the’ appointed place we tend; The world’s an inn, and death the journey’s end.
JOHN DRYDEN