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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 -
Whatever is, is in its causes just.
John Dryden
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And love's the noblest frailty of the mind.
John Dryden -
All objects lose by too familiar a view.
John Dryden -
Words are but pictures of our thoughts.
John Dryden -
Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit,The power of beauty I remember yet.
John Dryden -
He's somewhat lewd; but a well-meaning mind;Weeps much; fights little; but is wond'rous kind.
John Dryden -
Possess your soul with patience.
John Dryden
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Large was his wealth, but larger was his heart.
John Dryden -
The first is the law, the last prerogative.
John Dryden -
He who would search for pearls must dive below.
John Dryden -
An horrid stillness first invades the ear,And in that silence we the tempest fear.
John Dryden -
Timotheus, to his breathing flute, And sounding lyre,Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
John Dryden -
Even victors are by victories undone.
John Dryden
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His hair just grizzled,As in a green old age.
John Dryden -
For they conquer who believe they can.
John Dryden -
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 -
A satirical poet is the check of the laymen on bad priests.
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 -
Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again.
John Dryden
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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 -
Happy, happy, happy pair!None but the brave, None but the brave,None but the brave deserves the fair.
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