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Build yourself a book-nest to forget the world without.

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
Without
World
Nest
Nests
Build
Forget
Book

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Much will always wanting be To him who much desires.
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Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
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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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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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Life is an incurable disease.
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The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
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The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made themselves, under whatsoever form it be of government the liberty of a private man, in being master of his own time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of his country.
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Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise, He who defers this work from day to day, Does on a river's bank expecting stay, Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone, That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.
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His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets might Be wrong his life, I'm sure, was in the right.
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Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.
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Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!
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All the world's bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
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Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
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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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But what is woman? Only one of nature's agreeable blunders.
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Unbind the charms that in slight fables lie and teach that truth is truest poesy.
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Does not the passage of Moses and the Israelites into the Holy Land yield incomparably more poetic variety than the voyages of Ulysses or Aeneas?
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Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.
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Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
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Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
Abraham Cowley