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Kings fight for empires, madmen for applause.

John Dryden

Imagining is in itself the very height and life of poetry, which, by a kind of enthusiasm or extraordinary emotion of the soul, makes it seem to us that we behold those things which the poet paints.
JOHN DRYDEN

Emotion Enthusiasm Height Imagination Paint Poet Soul
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

Cheat Day False Fools Life
Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair.
JOHN DRYDEN

Brave Despair Happiness
Silence in times of suffering is the best.
JOHN DRYDEN

Best Silence Suffering Time
Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son.
JOHN DRYDEN

Estate Himself Misery Money Sell Soul
Order is the greatest grace.
JOHN DRYDEN

Greatness One Liner Order Peace
By education most have been misled.
JOHN DRYDEN

Direction Education One Liner
A narrow mind begets obstinacy; we do not easily believe what we cannot see.
JOHN DRYDEN

Believe Easy Invisible Mindset Unknown
They live too long who happiness outlive.
JOHN DRYDEN

Happiness Live
None would live past years again, Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain; And, from the dregs of life, think to receive, What the first sprightly running could not give.
JOHN DRYDEN

Hope Life Live Pleasure Run Thinking
Truth is the foundation of all knowledge and the cement of all societies.
JOHN DRYDEN

Cement Foundation Knowledge Society Truth
Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies arise!
JOHN DRYDEN

Fury Revenge See
Anger will never disappear so long as thoughts of resentment are cherished in the mind. Anger will disappear just as soon as thoughts of resentment are forgotten.
JOHN DRYDEN

Anger Cherish Disappear Forget
The sooner you treat your son as a man, the sooner he will be one.
JOHN DRYDEN

Himself Man Son Treat
Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.
JOHN DRYDEN

Death End Grave Kind Mourn
And plenty makes us poor.
JOHN DRYDEN

Poor

Kings fight for empires, madmen for applause.

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Kings fight for empires, madmen for applause.

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