William Cowper Quotes
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Tis Providence alone secures In every change both mine and yours.
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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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Toil for the brave! The brave that are no more.
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A fool must now and then be right, by chance
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Elegant as simplicity, and warm As ecstasy.
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[My kitten] is dressed in a tortoise-shell suit, and I know you will delight in her.
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Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.
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The only amaranthine flower on earth is virtue; the only lasting treasure, truth.
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The still small voice is wanted.
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Still ending, and beginning still.
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In man or woman, but far most in man, And most of all in man that ministers, And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn: Object of my implacable disgust.
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No wild enthusiast could rest, till half the world like him was possessed.
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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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Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, Have oft-times no connection. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men; Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
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Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon their knees.
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Strength may wield the ponderous spade, May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home; But elegance, chief grace the garden shows, And most attractive, is the fair result Of thought, the creature of a polished mind.
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Heaven's harmony is universal love.
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Some write a narrative of wars and feats, Of heroes little known, and call the rant A history.
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Forced from home, and all its pleasures, afric coast I left forlorn; to increase a stranger's treasures, o the raging billows borne. Men from England bought and sold me, paid my price in paltry gold; but, though theirs they have enroll'd me, minds are never to be sold.
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Lord, it is my chief complaint, That my love is weak and faint; Yet I love thee and adore, Oh for grace to love thee more!
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Unless a love of virtue light the flame, Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame; He hides behind a magisterial air He own offences, and strips others' bare.
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A moral, sensible, and well-bred manWill not affront me, and no other can.
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He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves besides.
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Ten thousand casks, Forever dribbling out their base contents, Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. Drink, and be mad then; 'tis your country bids!