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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

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Abraham Cowley
Age: 49 †
Born: 1618
Born: January 1
Died: 1667
Died: July 28
Essayist
Playwright
Poet
Prosaist
the City
Humble
Wait
Proud
Sleep
Waiting
Meanest
Country
Cottages
Palaces
Scorn

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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!
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For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
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Happy insect! what can be In happiness compared to thee? Fed with nourishment divine, The dewy morning's gentle wine! Nature waits upon thee still, And thy verdant cup does fill 'Tis fill'd wherever thou dost tread, Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
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Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
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His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets might Be wrong his life, I'm sure, was in the right.
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The present is all the ready money Fate can give.
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All this world's noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
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Why to mute fish should'st thou thyself discoverAnd not to me, thy no less silent lover?
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When Israel was from bondage led,Led by the Almighty's handFrom out of foreign land,The great sea beheld and fled.
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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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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
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Enjoy the present hour, Be thankful for the past, And neither fear nor wish Th' approaches of the last.
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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.
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Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.
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There have been fewer friends on earth than kings.
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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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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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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.
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The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made themselves, under whatsoever form it be of government the liberty of a private man, in being master of his own time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of his country.
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Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.
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