black
grey
blue
red
brown
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All objects lose by too familiar a view.

John Dryden

Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more; Fate was not mine, nor am I Fate’s: Souls know no conquerors.
JOHN DRYDEN

Empty Enough Fortune Myself Soul
All heiresses are beautiful.
JOHN DRYDEN

Beautiful One Liner
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

Honor Judgement Man Member Mistake Order
All authors to their own defects are blind.
JOHN DRYDEN

Author Blind Defect
Honor is but an empty bubble.
JOHN DRYDEN

Empty Respect
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

Age Empty Experience Known Start World
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

Beautiful Dangerous Surface Way
Virtue is her own reward.
JOHN DRYDEN

One Liner Reward Virtue
But Shakespeare’s magic could not copied be; Within that circle none durst walk but he.
JOHN DRYDEN

Himself Magic Walk
They, who would combat general authority with particular opinion, must first establish themselves a reputation of understanding better than other men.
JOHN DRYDEN

Authority Better General Man Opinion Understand
Zeal, the blind conductor of the will.
JOHN DRYDEN

Blind Willing Zeal
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
Confidence is the feeling we have before knowing all the facts.
JOHN DRYDEN

Confidence Fact Known
Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.
JOHN DRYDEN

Death End Grave Kind Mourn
Seas are the fields of combat for the winds; but when they sweep along some flowery coast, their wings move mildly, and their rage is lost.
JOHN DRYDEN

Lost Mild Rage Sea Wind
Those who write ill, and they who ne’er durst write, Turn critics out of mere revenge and spite.
JOHN DRYDEN

Criticism Revenge Writing

All objects lose by too familiar a view.

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All objects lose by too familiar a view.

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