William Cowper Quotes
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Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat, To peep at such a world; to see the stir Of the Great Babel, and not feel the crowd.
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Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule.
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Pleasure admitted in undue degree, enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.
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Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, the mere materials with which wisdom builds, till smoothed and squared and fitted to its place, does but encumber whom it seems to enrich. Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much; wisdom is humble that he knows no more.
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An inadvertent step may crush the snail That crawls at evening in the public path. But he that has humanity, forewarned, Will turn aside and let the reptile live.
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The beggarly last doit.
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Thus happiness depends, as nature shows, less on exterior things than most suppose.
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War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.
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O, popular applause! what heart of man is proof against thy sweet, seducing charms?
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Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.
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Without one friend, above all foes, Britannia gives the world repose.
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It is a terrible thought, that nothing is ever forgotten; that not an oath is ever uttered that does not continue to vibrate through all times, in the wide spreading current of sound; that not a prayer is lisped, that its record is not to be found st
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The Cross! There, and there only (though the deist rave, and the atheist, if Earth bears so base a slave); There and there only, is the power to save.
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Fanaticism, the false fire of an overheated mind.
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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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Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys, Unfriendly to society's chief joys: Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex whose presence civilizes ours.
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Solitude, seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave; a sepulchre in which the living lie, where all good qualities grow sick and die
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Words learn'd by rote a parrot may rehearse, But talking is not always to converse, Not more distinct from harmony divine The constant creaking of a country sign.
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And the tear that is wiped with a little address, May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.
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They whom truth and wisdom lead, can gather honey from a weed.
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But poverty, with most who whimper forth Their long complaints, is self-inflicted woe; The effect of laziness, or sottish write.
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The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.
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How! leap into the pit our life to save? To save our life leap all into the grave.
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Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.