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My age I will not once lament, / But sing, my time so near is spent.

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
Age
Time
Lament
Near
Spent
Sing

More quotes by Anne Bradstreet

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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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My hope and treasure lies above
Anne Bradstreet
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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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I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold or all the riches that the East doth hold.
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Authority without wisdom is like a heavy ax without an edge -- fitter to bruise than polish.
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The spring is a lively emblem of the Resurrection.
Anne Bradstreet
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I happy am, if well with you.
Anne Bradstreet
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What to my Saviour shall I giveWho freely hath done this for me?I'll serve him here whilst I shall liveAnd Loue him to Eternity
Anne Bradstreet
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Art can do much, but this maxim's most sure/A weak or wounded brain admits no cure.
Anne Bradstreet
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Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, I here, though there, yet both but one.
Anne Bradstreet
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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.
Anne Bradstreet
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If what I do prove well, it won't advance. They'll say it's stolen, or else it was by chance.
Anne Bradstreet
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Some laborers have hard hands, and old sinners have brawny consciences.
Anne Bradstreet
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If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.
Anne Bradstreet
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If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.
Anne Bradstreet
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I am obnoxious to each carping tongue who says my hand a needle better fits.
Anne Bradstreet
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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.
Anne Bradstreet
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We must, therefore, be here as strangers and pilgrims, that we may plainly declare that we seek a city above.
Anne Bradstreet
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Sweet words are like honey, a little may refresh, but too much gluts the stomach.
Anne Bradstreet
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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.
Anne Bradstreet