Remorse, the fatal egg by pleasure laid, In every bosom where her nest is made, Hatched by the beams of truth, denies him rest, And proves a raging scorpion in his breast.
WILLIAM COWPERI pity them greatly, but I must be mum, for how could we do without sugar and rum?
More William Cowper Quotes
-
-
An idler is a watch that wants both hands; As useless if it goes as when it stands.
WILLIAM COWPER -
Absence of occupation is not rest.
WILLIAM COWPER -
Time, as he passes us, has a dove’s wing, Unsoil’d, and swift, and of a silken sound.
WILLIAM COWPER -
God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm.
WILLIAM COWPER -
To impute our recovery to medicine, and to carry our view no further, is to rob God of His honor, and is saying in effect that He has parted with the keys of life and death, and, by giving to a drug the power to heal us, has placed our lives out of His own reach.
WILLIAM COWPER -
A life of ease is a difficult pursuit.
WILLIAM COWPER -
The Cross! There, and there only (though the deist rave, and the atheist, if Earth bears so base a slave); There and there only, is the power to save.
WILLIAM COWPER -
The only amaranthine flower on earth is virtue; the only lasting treasure, truth.
WILLIAM COWPER -
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not color’d like his own, and having pow’r T’ enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
WILLIAM COWPER -
The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flow’r. Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.
WILLIAM COWPER -
There is in souls a sympathy with sounds: And as the mind is pitch’d the ear is pleased With melting airs, or martial, brisk or grave; Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touch’d within us, and the heart replies.
WILLIAM COWPER -
There is a pleasure in poetic pains / Which only poets know.
WILLIAM COWPER -
Nature is a good name for an effect whose cause is God.
WILLIAM COWPER -
The still small voice is wanted.
WILLIAM COWPER -
Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame; He hides behind a magisterial air He own offences, and strips others’ bare.
WILLIAM COWPER