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So softly death succeeded life in her, She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.

John Dryden

Plots, true or false, are necessary things, To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.
JOHN DRYDEN

Fake King Necessary Ruin True
The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun, Is Nature’s eye.
JOHN DRYDEN

Eyes Heaven Nature
He who would pry behind the scenes oft sees a counterfeit.
JOHN DRYDEN

Himself Scene
I saw myself the lambent easy light Gild the brown horror, and dispel the night.
JOHN DRYDEN

Brown Easy Light Night
Confidence is the feeling we have before knowing all the facts.
JOHN DRYDEN

Confidence Fact Known
Griefs assured are felt before they come.
JOHN DRYDEN

Assurance Feeling Grief
Happy the man, and happy he alone, he who can call today his own; he who, secure within, can say, tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
JOHN DRYDEN

Alone Day Happiness Live Man Myself Secure Worst
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

Best Give Up Knowledge Nature Production True
Murder may pass unpunished for a time, But tardy justice will overtake the crime.
JOHN DRYDEN

Crime Murder Punishment Time
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

Boast Born Death End Journey Live Man Place Sincere
Repartee is the soul of conversation.
JOHN DRYDEN

Conversation One Liner Soul
He is a perpetual fountain of good sense.
JOHN DRYDEN

Fountain Goodness Sense
Fiction is of the essence of poetry as well as of painting; there is a resemblance in one of human bodies, things, and actions which are not real, and in the other of a true story by fiction.
JOHN DRYDEN

Action Essence Fiction Human Poetry Story
So the false spider, when her nets are spread, deep ambushed in her silent den does lie.
JOHN DRYDEN

Fake Lying Silence
Be fair, or foul, or rain, or shine, The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not heaven itself upon the past has power; But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
JOHN DRYDEN

Fair Fate Myself Possession Rain Shine Time
Ill habits gather unseen degrees, as brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
JOHN DRYDEN

Degree River Sea

So softly death succeeded life in her, She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.

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So softly death succeeded life in her, She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.

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