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WILLIAM COWPER
English poet
(1731 - 1800)
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The rich are too indolent, the poor too weak, to bear the insupportable fatigue of thinking.
      - [Thought]

The spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns;
  The low'ring eye, the petulance, the frown,
    And sullen sadness, that o'ershade, distort,
      And mar the face of beauty, when no cause
        For such immeasurable woe appears;
          These Flora banishes, and gives the fair
            Sweet smiles, and bloom less transient than her own.
      - [Spleen]

The statesman, lawyer, merchant, man of trade
  Pants for the refuge of some rural shade,
    Where all his long anxieties forgot
      Amid the charms of a sequester'd spot,
        Or recollected only to gild o'er
          And add a smile to what was sweet before,
            He may possess the joys he thinks he sees,
              Lay his old age upon the lap of ease,
                Improve the remnant of his wasted span.
                  And having lived a trifler, die a man.
      - [Retirement]

There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart; he does not feel for man.
      - [Obduracy]

They love the country, and none else, who seek
  For their own sake its silence and its shade.
    Delights which who would leave, that has a heart
      Susceptible of pity, or a mind
        Cultured and capable of sober thought.
      - [Country]

This fond attachment to the well-known place
  Whence first we started into life's long race,
    Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway,
      We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day.
      - [Home]

Those flimsy webs that break as soon as wrought, attain not to the dignity of thought.
      - [Thought]

To follow foolish precedents, and wink
  With both our eyes is easier than to think.
      - [Bigotry : Custom]

To swear, to game, to drink, to show at home
  By lewdness, idleness, and Sabbath-breach,
    The great proficiency he made abroad,
      T' astonish and to grieve his gazing friends,
        To break some maiden's and his mother's heart,
          To be a pest where he was useful once.
            Are his sole aim, and all his glory now.
      - [Soldiers]

True modesty is a discerning grace
  And only blushes in the proper place;
    But counterfeit is blind, and skulks through fear,
      Where 'tis a shame to be asham'd t' appear:
        Humility the parent of the first,
          The last by vanity produc'd and nurs'd.
      - [Modesty]

Truths on which depend our main concern,
  That 'tis our shame and misery not to learn,
    Shine by the side of every path we tread
      With such a lustre, he that runs may read.
      - [Truth]

Variety is the very spice of life.
      - [Variety]

Vice stings us even in our pleasures, but virtue consoles us even in our pains.
      - [Vice]

Visitors are insatiable devourers of time, and fit only for those who, if they did not visit, would do nothing.
      - [Visitors]

Visits are unsatiable devourers of time, and fit only for those who, if they did not visit, would do nothing.
      - [Visitors]

War's a game, which, were their subjects wise,
  Kings would not play at.
      - [War]

We sacrifice to dress till household joys and comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry, and keeps our larder lean.
      - [Dress]

We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works die too.
      - [Death]

What we admire we praise; and when we praise,
  Advance it into notice, that its worth
    Acknowledged, others may admire it too.
      - [Praise]

When from soft love proceeds the deep distress, ah! why forbid the willing tears to flow?
      - [Weeping]

When nations are to perish in their sins, 'tis in the Church the leprosy begins.
      - [Nation]

When perjury, that heaven-defying vice,
  Sells oaths by tale, and at the lowest price,
    Stamps God's own name upon a lie just made,
      To turn a penny in the way of trade.
      - [Swearing]

When scandal has new-minted an old lie,
  Or tax'd invention for a fresh supply,
    'Tis call'd a satire, and the world appears
      Gathering around it with erected ears;
        A thousand names are toss'd into the crowd,
          Some whisper'd softly, and some twang'd aloud,
            Just as the sapience of an author's brain,
              Suggests it safe or dangerous to be plain.
      - [Satire]

Where penury is felt the thought is chain'd,
  And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few.
      - [Poverty]

Where thou art gone, adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.
      - [Farewell]


Displaying page 5 of 14 for this author:   << Prev  Next >>  1 2 3 4 [5] 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

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