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Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!

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
Vain
Rise
Eternity
Weak
Built
Isthmus
Two
Eternities
Life
Dost
Proudly

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This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
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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.
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Books should, not Business, entertain the Light And Sleep, as undisturb'd as Death, the Night.
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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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The world's a scene of changes.
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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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Enjoy the present hour, Be thankful for the past, And neither fear nor wish Th' approaches of the last.
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Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
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Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
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I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that ... I might be master at last of a small house and a large garden, with very moderate conveniences joined to them, and there dedicate the remainder of my life to the culture of them and the study of nature.
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s a scene of changes, and to be constant in Nature were inconstancy.
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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 present is an eternal now.
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God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
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Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.
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May I a small house and large garden have And a few friends, And many books, both true.
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Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends not on number, but the choice of friends.
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Life is an incurable disease.
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To-day is ours what do we fear? To-day is ours we have it here. Let's treat it kindly, that it may Wish, at least, with us to stay. Let's banish business, banish sorrow To the gods belong to-morrow.
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Happy insect! what can be In happiness compared to thee? Fed with nourishment divine, The dewy morning's gentle wine! Nature waits upon thee still, And thy verdant cup does fill 'Tis fill'd wherever thou dost tread, Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
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