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God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.

Abraham Cowley

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Abraham Cowley
Age: 49 †
Born: 1618
Born: January 1
Died: 1667
Died: July 28
Essayist
Playwright
Poet
Prosaist
the City
City
Cities
Firsts
First
Made
Cain
Garden

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Thus would I double my life's fading spaceFor he that runs it well, runs twice his race.
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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
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The getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey.
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Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
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When Israel was from bondage led,Led by the Almighty's handFrom out of foreign land,The great sea beheld and fled.
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What a brave privilege is it to be free from all contentions, from all envying or being envied, from receiving or paying all kinds of ceremonies!
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As for being much known by sight, and pointed out, I cannot comprehend the honor that lies withal whatsoever it be, every mountebank has it more than the best doctor.
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Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
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Curs'd be that wretch (Death's factor sure) who brought Dire swords into the peaceful world, and taught Smiths (who before could only make The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man's left to epitomize!
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All the world's bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
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The monster London laugh at me.
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Gold begets in brethren hate Gold in families debate Gold does friendship separate Gold does civil wars create.
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Man is too near all kinds of beasts,--a fawning dog, a roaring lion, a thieving fox, a robbing wolf, a dissembling crocodile, a treacherous decoy, and a rapacious vulture.
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A mighty pain to love it is, And 'tis a pain that pain to miss But, of all pains, the greatest pain Is to love, but love in vain.
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The Sunflow'r, thinking 'twas for him foul shame To nap by daylight, strove t' excuse the blame It was not sleep that made him nod, he said, But too great weight and largeness of his head.
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The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
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Nay, in death's hand, the grape-stone proves As strong as thunder is in Jove's.
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It is a hard and nice subject for a man to speak of himself: it grates his own heart to say anything of disparagement, and the reader's ear to hear anything of praise from him.
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Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
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I confess I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a little feast.
Abraham Cowley