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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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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.
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Solitude can be used well by very few people. They who do must have a knowledge of the world to see the foolishness of it, and enough virtue to despise all the vanity.
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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
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Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
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Nay, in death's hand, the grape-stone proves As strong as thunder is in Jove's.
Abraham Cowley
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Our yesterday's to-morrow now is gone, And still a new to-morrow does come on. We by to-morrow draw out all our store, Till the exhausted well can yield no more.
Abraham Cowley
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Life for delays and doubts no time does give, None ever yet made haste enough to live.
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Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
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Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
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Thus each extreme to equal danger tends, Plenty, as well as Want, can sep'rate friends.
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May I a small house and large garden have And a few friends, And many books, both true.
Abraham Cowley
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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.
Abraham Cowley
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All the world's bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
Abraham Cowley
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Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!
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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.
Abraham Cowley
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Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
Abraham Cowley
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Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
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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Life is an incurable disease.
Abraham Cowley
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Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.
Abraham Cowley