John Dryden Quotes
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Of ancient race by birth, but nobler yetIn his own worth.
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Sound the trumpets; beat the drums...Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes.
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Large was his wealth, but larger was his heart.
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Beware the fury of a patient man.
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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.
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Successful crimes alone are justified.
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Be kind to my remains; and oh defend,Against your judgment, your departed friend!
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Timotheus, to his breathing flute, And sounding lyre,Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
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Above any Greek or Roman name.
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Men are but children of a larger growth; Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving, too, and full as vain.
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Whatever is, is in its causes just.
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I have found, by trial, Homer a more pleasing task than Virgil (though I say not the translation will be less laborious); for the Grecian is more according to my genius, than the Latin poet.
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Like a led victim, to my death I'll go, And, dying, bless the hand that gave the blow.
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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.
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Roused by the lash of his own stubborn tail our lion now will foreign foes assail.
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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.
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Words are but pictures of our thoughts.
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The first is the law, the last prerogative.
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'T is not for nothing that we life pursue;It pays our hopes with something still that's new.
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War is the trade of Kings.