William Cowper Quotes
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With spots quadrangular of diamond form, ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, and spades, the emblems of untimely graves.
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He finds his fellow guilty of a skin Not color'd like his own, and having pow'r T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey.
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Toil for the brave! The brave that are no more.
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Poor England! thou art a devoted deer, Beset with every ill but that of fear. The nations hunt; all mock thee for a prey; They swarm around thee, and thou stand'st at bay.
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O, popular applause! what heart of man is proof against thy sweet, seducing charms?
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Events of all sorts creep or fly exactly as God pleases.
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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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Good sense, good health, good conscience, and good fame,--all these belong to virtue, and all prove that virtue has a title to your love.
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I pity bashful men, who feel the pain Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain, And bear the marks upon a blushing face, OF needless shame, and self-impos'd disgrace.
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Man disavows, and Deity disowns me: hell might afford my miseries a shelter; therefore hell keeps her ever-hungry mouths all bolted against me.
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The only amaranthine flower on earth is virtue; the only lasting treasure, truth.
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All truth is precious, if not all divine; and what dilates the powers must needs refine.
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Mansions once Knew their own masters, and laborious hinds, That had surviv'd the father, serv'd the son. Now the legitimate and rightful lord Is but a transient guest, newly arrived, And soon to be supplanted. He that saw His patrimonial timber cast its leaf, Sells the last scantling, and transfers the price To some shrewd sharper ere it buds again. Estates are landscapes, gazed upon awhile, Then advertised and auctioneer'd away.
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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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Sends Nature forth the daughter of the skies... To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
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No man can be a patriot on an empty stomach.
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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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War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.
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The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.
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He that attends to his interior self, That has a heart, and keeps it; has a mind That hungers, and supplies it; and who seeks A social, not a dissipated life, Has business.
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No wild enthusiast could rest, till half the world like him was possessed.
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Pleasure admitted in undue degree, enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.
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Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa around, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in
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Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.