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An horrid stillness first invades the ear,And in that silence we the tempest fear.
John Dryden -
Ye realms, yet unreveal'd to human sight,Ye gods who rule the regions of the night,Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relateThe mystic wonders of your silent state!
John Dryden
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He was exhaled; his great Creator drewHis spirit, as the sun the morning dew.
John Dryden -
The soft complaining flute,In dying notes, discoversThe woes of hopeless lovers.
John Dryden -
He's somewhat lewd; but a well-meaning mind;Weeps much; fights little; but is wond'rous kind.
John Dryden -
A satirical poet is the check of the laymen on bad priests.
John Dryden -
Happy who in his verse can gently steerFrom grave to light, from pleasant to severe.
John Dryden -
As long as words a different sense will bear, And each may be his own interpreter, Our airy faith will no foundation find; The word's a weathercock for every wind.
John Dryden
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A man so various, that he seem’d to beNot one, but all mankind’s epitome;Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong,Was everything by starts, and nothing long;But in the course of one revolving moonWas chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon.
John Dryden -
Nor is the people's judgment always true:The most may err as grossly as the few.
John Dryden -
All objects lose by too familiar a view.
John Dryden -
Plots, true or false, are necessary things,To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.
John Dryden -
Railing in other men may be a crime,But ought to pass for mere instinct in him:Instinct he follows and no further knows,For to write verse with him is to transpose.
John Dryden -
He who would search for pearls must dive below.
John Dryden
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His hair just grizzled,As in a green old age.
John Dryden -
We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.
John Dryden -
She feared no danger, for she knew no sin.
John Dryden -
Love conquers all, and we must yield to Love.
John Dryden -
Anger will never disappear so long as thoughts of resentment are cherished in the mind. Anger will disappear just as soon as thoughts of resentment are forgotten.
John Dryden -
Beware the fury of a patient man.
John Dryden
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And raw in fields the rude militia swarms,Mouths without hands; maintain'd at vast expense,In peace a charge, in war a weak defence;Stout once a month they march, a blustering band,And ever but in times of need at hand.
John Dryden -
Words, once my stock, are wanting to commendSo great a poet and so good a friend.
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 -
Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit,The power of beauty I remember yet.
John Dryden