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Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.

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
Pilgrims
Pilgrim
Devotion
Curiosity
Less
Doe
Make

More quotes by Abraham Cowley

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The monster London laugh at me.
Abraham Cowley
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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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Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
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Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
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For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
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Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
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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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Life is an incurable disease.
Abraham Cowley
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We may talk what we please, he cries in his enthusiasm for the oldest of the arts, of lilies, and lions rampant, and spread eagles, in fields d'or or d'argent but, if heraldry were guided by reason, a plough in a field arable would be the most noble and ancient arms.
Abraham Cowley
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And I myself a Catholic will be, So far at least, great saint, to pray to thee. Hail, Bard triumphant! and some care bestow On us, the Poets militant below.
Abraham Cowley
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The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
Abraham Cowley
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Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.
Abraham Cowley
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Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
Abraham Cowley
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Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
Abraham Cowley
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Gold begets in brethren hate Gold in families debate Gold does friendship separate Gold does civil wars create.
Abraham Cowley
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Nothing in Nature's sober found, But an eternal Health goes round. Fill up the Bowl then, fill it high-- Fill all the Glasses there for why Should every Creature Drink but I? Why, Man of Morals, tell me why?
Abraham Cowley
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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
Abraham Cowley
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All this world's noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
Abraham Cowley
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God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
Abraham Cowley
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Awake, awake, my Lyre!And tell thy silent master's humble taleIn sounds that may prevailSounds that gentle thoughts inspire:Though so exalted sheAnd I so lowly beTell her, such different notes make all thy harmony.
Abraham Cowley