Quote

Nay, in death's hand, the grape-stone proves As strong as thunder is in Jove's.

Abraham Cowley

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Abraham Cowley
Age: 49 †
Born: 1618
Born: January 1
Died: 1667
Died: July 28
Essayist
Playwright
Poet
Prosaist
the City
Strong
Grape
Death
Grapes
Hands
Proves
Thunder
Stone
Stones
Prove
Hand
Jove

More quotes by Abraham Cowley

Image
The present is an eternal now.
Abraham Cowley
Image
Unbind the charms that in slight fables lie and teach that truth is truest poesy.
Abraham Cowley
Image
Life for delays and doubts no time does give, None ever yet made haste enough to live.
Abraham Cowley
Image
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
Image
Thus each extreme to equal danger tends, Plenty, as well as Want, can sep'rate friends.
Abraham Cowley
Image
Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
Abraham Cowley
Image
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
Image
This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
Abraham Cowley
Image
Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
Abraham Cowley
Image
Why to mute fish should'st thou thyself discoverAnd not to me, thy no less silent lover?
Abraham Cowley
Image
To be a husbandman, is but a retreat from the city to be a philosopher, from the world or rather, a retreat from the world, as it is man's, into the world, as it is God's.
Abraham Cowley
Image
Poets by Death are conquer'd but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
Abraham Cowley
Image
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
Image
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
Image
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
Image
Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
Abraham Cowley
Image
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
Image
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.
Abraham Cowley
Image
Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.
Abraham Cowley
Image
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