Quote

Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.

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
Around
Roses
Like
Bowl
Bowls
Temples
Fill
Twine
Rose
Cheerfully
Smile
Rosy
Wine
Awhile

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Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
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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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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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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.
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His time's forever, everywhere his place.
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May I a small house and large garden have And a few friends, And many books, both true.
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Build yourself a book-nest to forget the world without.
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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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Poets by Death are conquer'd but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
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Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.
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This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
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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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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.
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Thus each extreme to equal danger tends, Plenty, as well as Want, can sep'rate friends.
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Books should, not Business, entertain the Light And Sleep, as undisturb'd as Death, the Night.
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I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that ... I might be master at last of a small house and a large garden, with very moderate conveniences joined to them, and there dedicate the remainder of my life to the culture of them and the study of nature.
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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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Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.
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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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