John Dryden Quotes
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When beauty fires the blood, how love exalts the mind!
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Drinking is the soldier’s pleasure;Rich the treasure;Sweet the pleasure;Sweet is pleasure after pain.
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Give, you gods, Give to your boy, your Caesar, The rattle of a globe to play withal, This gewgaw world, and put him cheaply off; I'll not be pleased with less than Cleopatra.
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All things are hush'd, as Nature's self lay dead,The Mountains seem to nod their drowsy head;The little Birds in dreams their Songs repeat,And sleeping Flowers, beneath the night-dew sweat;Even Lust and Envy sleep.
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There is a pleasure in being mad which none but madmen know.
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If you be pungent, be brief; for it is with words as with sunbeams - the more they are condensed the deeper they burn.
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In friendship false, implacable in hate,Resolved to ruin or to rule the state.
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Here lies my wife:here let her lie!Now she's at rest, and so am I.
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Endure the hardships of your present state,Live, and reserve yourselves for better fate.
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Thus all below is strength, and all above is grace.
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Death in itself is nothing; but we fear to be we know not what, we know not where.
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Madam me no madam.
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The fool of nature stood with stupid eyesAnd gaping mouth, that testified surprise.
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What flocks of critics hover here to-day,As vultures wait on armies for their prey,All gaping for the carcase of a play!With croaking notes they bode some dire event,And follow dying poets by the scent.
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Tomorrow do thy worst, I have lived today.
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Honor is but an empty bubble.
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Love is love's reward.
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Burn daylight.
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Arms, and the man I sing, who, forced by Fate,And haughty Juno's unrelenting hate,Expell'd and exil'd, left the Trojan shore;Long labours both by sea and land he bore.
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Lord of humankind.
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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?
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I am as free as Nature first made man,Ere the base laws of servitude began,When wild in woods the noble savage ran.
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So over violent, or over civil,That every man with him was God or Devil.
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For pity melts the mind to love.