Take not away the life you cannot give: For all things have an equal right to live.
JOHN DRYDENMen’s virtues I have commended as freely as I have taxed their crimes.
More John Dryden Quotes
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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 -
For secrets are edged tools, And must be kept from children and from fools.
JOHN DRYDEN -
To die for faction is a common evil, But to be hanged for nonsense is the devil.
JOHN DRYDEN -
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 -
The trumpet’s loud clangor Excites us to arms.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Repartee is the soul of conversation.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Nor is the people’s judgment always true: the most may err as grossly as the few.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes… Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.
JOHN DRYDEN -
We can never be grieved for their miseries who are thoroughly wicked, and have thereby justly called their calamities on themselves.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.
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 -
Affability, mildness, tenderness, and a word which I would fain bring back to its original signification of virtue,–I mean good-nature,–are of daily use; they are the bread of mankind and staff of life.
JOHN DRYDEN -
If thou dost still retain the same ill habits, the same follies, too, still thou art bound to vice, and still a slave.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Virgil and Horace were the severest writers of the severest age.
JOHN DRYDEN -
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