If the faults of men in orders are only to be judged among themselves, they are all in some sort parties; for, since they say the honour of their order is concerned in every member of it, how can we be sure that they will be impartial judges?
JOHN DRYDENTruth is never to be expected from authors whose understanding is warped with enthusiasm.
More John Dryden Quotes
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For age but tastes of pleasures youth devours.
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 -
The sooner you treat your son as a man, the sooner he will be one.
JOHN DRYDEN -
A farce is that in poetry which grotesque (caricature) is in painting. The persons and actions of a farce are all unnatural, and the manners false, that is, inconsistent with the characters of mankind; and grotesque painting is the just resemblance of this.
JOHN DRYDEN -
But how can finite grasp Infinity?
JOHN DRYDEN -
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 -
Repentance is but want of power to sin.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Freedom which in no other land will thrive, Freedom an English subject’s sole prerogative.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Great souls forgive not injuries till time has put their enemies within their power, that they may show forgiveness is their own.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Presence of mind and courage in distress, Are more than arrives to procure success?
JOHN DRYDEN -
Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend.
JOHN DRYDEN -
He look’d in years, yet in his years were seen A youthful vigor, and autumnal green.
JOHN DRYDEN -
But far more numerous was the herd of such, Who think too little, and who talk too much.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Content with poverty, my soul I arm; And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Old age creeps on us where we think it night.
JOHN DRYDEN