black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

But love’s a malady without a cure.

John Dryden

Thus, while the mute creation downward bend Their sight, and to their earthly mother ten, Man looks aloft; and with erected eyes Beholds his own hereditary skies.
JOHN DRYDEN

Creation Earth Eyes Man Mom Sky Soft
Take not away the life you cannot give: For all things have an equal right to live.
JOHN DRYDEN

Equality Life Live Right
Men’s virtues I have commended as freely as I have taxed their crimes.
JOHN DRYDEN

Crime Freedom Tax Virtue
So softly death succeeded life in her, She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.
JOHN DRYDEN

Death Dreams Heaven Herself Life Success
They say everything in the world is good for something.
JOHN DRYDEN

Goodness Karma World
Virtue in distress, and vice in triumph make atheists of mankind.
JOHN DRYDEN

Kind Man Vice Virtue
Beware the fury of a patient man.
JOHN DRYDEN

Fury Man Patience
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

Age Empty Experience Known Start World
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

Choice Delight Evil Lying Object Truth Understand
Time and death shall depart and say in flying Love has found out a way to live, by dying.
JOHN DRYDEN

Death Finding Love Time Way
Only man clogs his happiness with care, destroying what is with thoughts of what may be.
JOHN DRYDEN

Care Destroy Happiness Man Thinking
Errors like straws upon the surface flow, Who would search for pearls to be grateful for often must dive below.
JOHN DRYDEN

Errors Flow Gratitude Surface
Deathless laurel is the victor’s due.
JOHN DRYDEN

Death Due
Seas are the fields of combat for the winds; but when they sweep along some flowery coast, their wings move mildly, and their rage is lost.
JOHN DRYDEN

Lost Mild Rage Sea Wind
Every language is so full of its own proprieties that what is beautiful in one is often barbarous, nay, sometimes nonsense, in another.
JOHN DRYDEN

Beautiful Language Oneself
We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.
JOHN DRYDEN

Character Habit Inspirational Nature Ourselves

But love’s a malady without a cure.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

But love’s a malady without a cure.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

More John Dryden Quotes