William Cowper Quotes
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Made poetry a mere mechanic art.
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He that has seen both sides of fifty has lived to little purpose if he has no other views of the world than he had when he was much younger.
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In the vast, and the minute, we see The unambiguous footsteps of the God, Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing And wheels His throne upon the rolling worlds.
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Ages elapsed ere Homer's lamp appear'd, And ages ere the Mantuan swan was heard: To carry nature lengths unknown before, To give a Milton birth, ask'd ages more.
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There is mercy in every place. And mercy, encouraging thought gives even affliction a grace and reconciles man to his lot.
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Detested sport, That owes its pleasures to another's pain.
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There is a mixture of evil in everything we do; indulgence encourages us to encroach, while we Crabbe exercise the rights of children, we become childish.
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Religion, richest favor of the skies.
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If a great man struggling with misfortunes is a noble object, a little man that despises them is no contemptible one.
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A life all turbulence and noise may seem To him that leads it wise and to be praised, But wisdom is a pearl with most success Sought in still waters.
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Absence of occupation is not rest; A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.
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Could he with reason murmur at his case, Himself sole author of his own disgrace?
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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.
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I am out of humanity's reach.
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The darkest day, if you live till tomorrow, will have passed away.
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Unmissed but by his dogs and by his groom.
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Truth is the golden girdle of the globe.
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Misses! the tale that I relate This lesson seems to carry-- Choose not alone a proper mate, But proper time to marry.
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Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan his work in vain; God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain.
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Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen, Delightful industry enjoy'd at home, An Nature, in her cultivated trim Dress'ed to his taste, inviting him abroad - Can he want occupation who has these?
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The slaves of custom and established mode, With pack-horse constancy we keep the road Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny dells, True to the jingling of our leader's bells.
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What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill.
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How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.
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Did Charity prevail, the press would prove A vehicle of virtue, truth, and love.