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Some laborers have hard hands, and old sinners have brawny consciences.

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
Sinner
Conscience
Hands
Hard
Brawny
Consciences
Laborers
Sinners

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If we had not winter, the spring would not be so pleasant if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
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Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, I here, though there, yet both but one.
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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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Art can do much, but this maxim's most sure/A weak or wounded brain admits no cure.
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My hope and treasure lies above
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If ever wife was happy in a man, compare with me, ye women if you can.
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The world no longer lets me love, My hope and treasure are above.
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But man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid.
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Fire hath its force abated by water, not by wind and anger must be allayed by cold words, and not by blustering threats.
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A prosperous state makes a secure Christian, but adversity makes him Consider.
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That when we live no more, We may live ever
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I wish my Sun may never set, but burn.
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And time brings down what is both strong and tall. But plants new set to be eradicate, And buds new blown, to have so short a date, Is by his hand alone that guides nature and fate.
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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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I am obnoxious to each carping tongue/ Who says my hand a needle better fits./ A poet's pen all scorn I should thus wrong/ For such despite they cast on female wits/ If what I do prove well, it won't advance,/ They'll say it's stolen, or else, it was by chance.
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Authority without wisdom is like a heavy ax without an edge -- fitter to bruise than polish.
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I happy am, if well with you.
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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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Sweet words are like honey, a little may refresh, but too much gluts the stomach.
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My age I will not once lament, / But sing, my time so near is spent.
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