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It is a hard and nice subject for a man to speak of himself: it grates his own heart to say anything of disparagement, and the reader's ear to hear anything of praise from him.
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
Men
Subjects
Reader
Grates
Hear
Disparagement
Nice
Grate
Speak
Egotism
Anything
Ears
Hard
Praise
Heart
Subject
More quotes by Abraham Cowley
When Israel was from bondage led,Led by the Almighty's handFrom out of foreign land,The great sea beheld and fled.
Abraham Cowley
Poets by Death are conquer'd but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
Abraham Cowley
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.
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Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
Abraham Cowley
Books should, not Business, entertain the Light And Sleep, as undisturb'd as Death, the Night.
Abraham Cowley
Unbind the charms that in slight fables lie and teach that truth is truest poesy.
Abraham Cowley
The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
Abraham Cowley
As for being much known by sight, and pointed out, I cannot comprehend the honor that lies withal whatsoever it be, every mountebank has it more than the best doctor.
Abraham Cowley
His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets might Be wrong his life, I'm sure, was in the right.
Abraham Cowley
Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
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
God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
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Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
Abraham Cowley
Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.
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
May I a small house and large garden have And a few friends, And many books, both true.
Abraham Cowley
Enjoy the present hour, Be thankful for the past, And neither fear nor wish Th' approaches of the last.
Abraham Cowley
Thus each extreme to equal danger tends, Plenty, as well as Want, can sep'rate friends.
Abraham Cowley
Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
Abraham Cowley