Quote

Satan, that great angler, hath his sundry baits for sundry tempers of men, which they all catch greedily at, but few perceive the hook till it be too late.

Anne Bradstreet

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Anne Bradstreet
Age: 60 †
Born: 1612
Born: March 20
Died: 1672
Died: September 16
Poet
Writer
Ann Dudley
Ann Dudley Bradstreet
Anne Dudley Bradstreet
Anne Dudley
Men
Hath
Baits
Temper
Angler
Satan
Sundry
Catch
Greedily
Perceive
Tempers
Till
Anglers
Late
Bait
Great
Hook

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When I behold the heavens as in their prime, And then the earth (though old) still clad in green, The stones and trees, insensible of time, Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen
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My age I will not once lament, / But sing, my time so near is spent.
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The stones and trees, insensible to time, / Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen / If Winter come, and greenness then do fade / A Spring returns, and they more youthful made / But man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid.
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Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, I here, though there, yet both but one.
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I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold or all the riches that the East doth hold.
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A prosperous state makes a secure Christian, but adversity makes him Consider.
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Wisdom with an inheritance is good, but wisdom without an inheritance is better than an inheritance without wisdom.
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It is reported of the peacock that priding himself in his gay feathers he ruffles them up but spying his black feet he soon lets fall his plumes. So he that glories in his gifts and adornings should look upon his corruptions, and that will damp his high thoughts.
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Youth is the time of getting, middle age of improving, and old age of spending.
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Iron till it be thoroughly heated is incapable to be wrought so God sees good to cast some men into the furnace of affliction, and then beats them on His anvil into what frame He desires.
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Wickedness comes to its height by degrees. He that dares say of a less sin, Is it not a little one? will ere long say of a greater, Tush, God regards it not!
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I wish my Sun may never set, but burn.
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My hope and treasure lies above
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My love is such that Rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee, give recompence. Thy love is such I can no way repay, The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.
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If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.
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There is no object that we see no action that we do no good that we enjoy no evil that we feel, or fear, but we may make some spiritual advantage of all: and he that makes such improvement is wise, as well as pious.
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The world no longer lets me love, My hope and treasure are above.
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Sweet words are like honey, a little may refresh, but too much gluts the stomach.
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To sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings/Of Cities founded, Common-wealths begun/For my mean Pen are too superior things.
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We must, therefore, be here as strangers and pilgrims, that we may plainly declare that we seek a city above.
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