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Poets by Death are conquer'd but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.

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
Poet
Death
Triumphs
Wit
Poets
Conquer
Triumph

More quotes by Abraham Cowley

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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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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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I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them I have lived today.
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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?
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Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!
Abraham Cowley
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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
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Neither the praise nor the blame is our own.
Abraham Cowley
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Thus each extreme to equal danger tends, Plenty, as well as Want, can sep'rate friends.
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Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.
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Hope! fortune's cheating lottery when for one prize an hundred blanks there be!
Abraham Cowley
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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.
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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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
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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Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
Abraham Cowley
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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.
Abraham Cowley
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The monster London laugh at me.
Abraham Cowley
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Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends not on number, but the choice of friends.
Abraham Cowley
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This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
Abraham Cowley
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The world's a scene of changes.
Abraham Cowley