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Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.

John Dryden

A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth.
JOHN DRYDEN

Cheating Man Passion Reason Truth
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

Future Heart State Tongue Tremble
Light sufferings give us leisure to complain.
JOHN DRYDEN

Complain Leisure Light Suffering
Few know the use of life before ’tis past.
JOHN DRYDEN

Life Past
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

Eagle Fools Mount Myself Wings
I am as free as nature first made man, Ere the base laws of servitude began, When wild in woods the noble savage ran.
JOHN DRYDEN

Freedom Man Nature Run Savage Wild
Virtue is her own reward.
JOHN DRYDEN

One Liner Reward Virtue
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
None but the brave deserve the fair.
JOHN DRYDEN

Brave Deserve Fair
Love is a passion Which kindles honor into noble acts.
JOHN DRYDEN

Act Honor Love Passion
Love is love’s reward.
JOHN DRYDEN

Love One Liner Reward
Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence.
JOHN DRYDEN

Bold Goodness Starve
More liberty begets desire of more; The hunger still increases with the store.
JOHN DRYDEN

Desire Hungry Liberty Store
We must beat the iron while it is hot, but we may polish it at leisure.
JOHN DRYDEN

Chance Hot Iron Leisure
Riches cannot rescue from the grave, which claims alike the monarch and the slave.
JOHN DRYDEN

Claim Grave Rich Slave
Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair.
JOHN DRYDEN

Brave Despair Happiness

Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.

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Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.

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Popular Authors

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