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Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.
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
Behinds
Behind
Bald
Shall
Slip
Opportunity
Occasion
Past
Lets
Find
Slips
Never
Occasions
Fortune
More quotes by Abraham Cowley
The getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey.
Abraham Cowley
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.
Abraham Cowley
His time's forever, everywhere his place.
Abraham Cowley
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.
Abraham Cowley
Plenty, as well as Want, can separate friends.
Abraham Cowley
All this world's noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
Abraham Cowley
Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
Abraham Cowley
Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.
Abraham Cowley
This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
Abraham Cowley
Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.
Abraham Cowley
Why dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit, Or what is worse, be left by it? Why dost thou load thyself when thou 'rt to fly, Oh, man! ordain'd to die? Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high, Thou who art under ground to lie? Thou sow'st and plantest, but no fruit must see, For death, alas! is reaping thee.
Abraham Cowley
Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
Abraham Cowley
But what is woman? Only one of nature's agreeable blunders.
Abraham Cowley
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
Thus would I double my life's fading spaceFor he that runs it well, runs twice his race.
Abraham Cowley
Poets by Death are conquer'd but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
Abraham Cowley
Much will always wanting be To him who much desires.
Abraham Cowley
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!
Abraham Cowley
Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
Abraham Cowley
Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
Abraham Cowley
