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Who does not more admire Cicero as an author than as a consul of Rome?
Who rant by note, and through the gamut rage; in songs and airs express their martial fire; combat in trills, and in a fugue expire.
Why will any man be so impertinently officious as to tell me all prospect of a future state is only fancy and delusion? Is there any merit in being the messenger of ill news. If it is a dream, let me enjoy it, since it makes me both the happier and better man.
Wine displays every little spot of the soul in its utmost deformity.
Wine heightens indifference into love, love into jealousy, and jealousy into madness. It often turns the good-natured man into an idiot, and the choleric into an assassin. It gives bitterness to resentment, it makes vanity insupportable, and displays every little spot of the soul in its utmost deformity.
- [Wine and Spirits]
Wine often turns the good-natured man into an idiot and the choleric into an assassin.
- [Wine and Spirits]
Wit is the fetching of congruity out of incongruity.
With what astonishment and veneration may we look into our own souls, where there are such hidden stores of virtue and knowledge, such inexhaustible sources of perfection. We know not yet what we shall be, nor will it ever enter into the heart to conceive the glory that will be always in reserve for it.
Without constancy, there is neither love, friendship, nor virtue in the world.
Words, when well chosen, have so great a force in them that a description often gives us more lively ideas than the sight of things themselves.
On you, my lord, with anxious fear I wait,
And from your judgment must expect my fate.
- A Poem to His Majesty (l. 21) [Judgment]
Music religious heat inspires,
It wakes the soul, and lifts it high,
And wings it with sublime desires,
And fits it to bespeak the Deity.
- A Song for St. Cecilia's Day (st. 4)
A thousand trills and quivering sounds
In airy circles o'er us fly,
Till, wafted by a gentle breeze,
They faint and languish by degrees,
And at a distance die.
- An Ode for St. Cecelia's Day (VI) [Sound]
O Dormer, how can I behold thy fate,
And not the wonders of thy youth relate;
How can I see the gay, the brave, the young,
Fall in the cloud of war, and lie unsung!
In joys of conquest he resigns his breath,
And, filled with England's glory, smiles in death.
- Campaign--To Philip Dormer [Soldiers]
My voice is still for war.
- Cato [War]
Is there not some chosen curse,
Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven,
Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man
Who owes his greatness to his country's ruin?
- Cato (act I, sc. 1) [Treason]
The dawn is overcast, the morning lowers,
And heavily in clouds brings on the day,
The great, the important day, big with the fate
Of Cato, and of Rome.
- Cato (act I, sc. 1) [Fate]
Conspiracies no sooner should be formed
- Cato (act I, sc. 2) [Conspiracy]
Thy father's merit sets thee up to view,
And shows thee in the fairest point of light,
To make thy virtues, or thy faults, conspicuous.
- Cato (act I, sc. 2) [Merit]
'Tis not in mortals to command success,
But we'll do more, Sempronius,--
We'll deserve it.
- Cato (act I, sc. 2) [Success]
Oh! think what anxious moments pass between
The birth of plots, and their last fatal periods,
Oh! 'tis a dreadful interval of time,
Filled up with horror all, and big with death!
- Cato (act I, sc. 3) [Conscience]
Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover,
Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.
- Cato (act I, sc. 4) [Beauty : Familiarity]
Better to die ten thousand deaths,
Than wound my honour.
- Cato (act I, sc. 4) [Honor]
Blesses his stars, and thinks it luxury.
- Cato (act I, sc. 4) [Luxury]
I think the Romans call it Stoicism.
- Cato (act I, sc. 4) [Courage]
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