Quote

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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Abraham Cowley
Age: 49 †
Born: 1618
Born: January 1
Died: 1667
Died: July 28
Essayist
Playwright
Poet
Prosaist
the City
Things
Estates
Love
Convenient
Cheerful
Almost
Company
Littleness
House
Feast
Littles
Confess
Little
Estate

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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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Ah! Wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company.
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The getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey.
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And I myself a Catholic will be, So far at least, great saint, to pray to thee. Hail, Bard triumphant! and some care bestow On us, the Poets militant below.
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There is some help for all the defects of fortune for, if a man cannot attain to the length of his wishes, he may have his remedy by cutting of them shorter.
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Neither the praise nor the blame is our own.
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Much will always wanting be To him who much desires.
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s a scene of changes, and to be constant in Nature were inconstancy.
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Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.
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All this world's noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
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Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape Who dost in every country change thy shape!
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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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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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Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.
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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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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
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A mighty pain to love it is, And 'tis a pain that pain to miss But, of all pains, the greatest pain Is to love, but love in vain.
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The world's a scene of changes.
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His time's forever, everywhere his place.
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Thus would I double my life's fading spaceFor he that runs it well, runs twice his race.
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