As one that neither seeks, nor shuns his foe.
JOHN DRYDENSo softly death succeeded life in her, She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.
More John Dryden Quotes
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Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise!
JOHN DRYDEN -
A good conscience is a port which is landlocked on every side, where no winds can possibly invade. There a man may not only see his own image, but that of his Maker, clearly reflected from the undisturbed waters.
JOHN DRYDEN -
And plenty makes us poor.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Trust on and think To-morrow will repay; To-morrow’s falser than the former day; Lies worse; and while it says, we shall be blest With some new Joys, cuts off what we possest.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Fool that I was, upon my eagle’s wings I bore this wren, till I was tired with soaring, and now he mounts above me.
JOHN DRYDEN -
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 -
Present joys are more to flesh and blood Than a dull prospect of a distant good.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Death in itself is nothing; but we fear to be we know not what, we know not where.
JOHN DRYDEN -
If passion rules, how weak does reason prove!
JOHN DRYDEN -
If by the people you understand the multitude, the hoi polloi, ’tis no matter what they think; they are sometimes in the right, sometimes in the wrong; their judgment is a mere lottery.
JOHN DRYDEN -
For truth has such a face and such a mien, as to be loved needs only to be seen.
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 -
What passion cannot music raise and quell!
JOHN DRYDEN -
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