All flowers will droop in the absence of the sun that waked their sweets.
JOHN DRYDENWhen I consider life, it is all a cheat. Yet fooled with hope, people favor this deceit.
More John Dryden Quotes
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A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Sweet is pleasure after pain.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Virtue is her own reward.
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 -
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 -
Of all the tyrannies on human kind the worst is that which persecutes the mind.
JOHN DRYDEN -
An hour will come, with pleasure to relate Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair.
JOHN DRYDEN -
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 DRYDEN -
All, as they say, that glitters is not gold.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.
JOHN DRYDEN -
All heiresses are beautiful.
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 -
Sure there is none but fears a future state; And when the most obdurate swear they do not, Their trembling hearts belie their boasting tongues.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.
JOHN DRYDEN -
God never made his work for man to mend.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Fattened in vice, so callous and so gross, he sins and sees not, senseless of his loss.
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 -
So softly death succeeded life in her, She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Tis a good thing to laugh at any rate; and if a straw can tickle a man, it is an instrument of happiness.
JOHN DRYDEN -
All objects lose by too familiar a view.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Welcome, thou kind deceiver! Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key, Dost open life, and, unperceived by us, Even steal us from ourselves.
JOHN DRYDEN -
They say everything in the world is good for something.
JOHN DRYDEN -
More liberty begets desire of more; The hunger still increases with the store.
JOHN DRYDEN -
Few know the use of life before ’tis past.
JOHN DRYDEN