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All discourses but my own afflict me they seem harsh, impertinent, and irksome

Ben Jonson

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Ben Jonson
Age: 65 †
Born: 1572
Born: June 21
Died: 1637
Died: August 6
Actor
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Benjamin Jonson
Seems
Irksome
Impertinent
Discourses
Afflict
Discourse
Harsh
Speech
Seem

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All the wise world is little else, in nature, But parasites or subparasites.
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To the old, long life and treasure To the young, all health and pleasure.
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Forbear, you things That stand upon the pinnacles of state, To boast your slippery height! when you do fall, You dash yourselves in pieces, ne'er to rise: And he that lends you pity, is not wise.
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It is as great a spite to be praised in the wrong place, and by a wrong person, as can be done to a noble nature.
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One woman reads another's character Without the tedious trouble of deciphering
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It strikes! one, two, Three, four, five, six. Enough, enough, dear watch, Thy pulse hath beat enough. Now sleep and rest Would thou could'st make the time to do so too I'll wind thee up no more.
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Many might go to heaven with half the labour they go to hell, if they would venture their industry the right way.
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Force works on servile natures, not the free.
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It is the highest of earthly honors to be descended from the great and good. They alone cry out against a noble ancestry who have none of their own.
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The pipe marks the point at which the orangutan ends and man begins.
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I know no disease of the soul but ignorance, a pernicious evil, the darkener of man's life, the disturber of his reason, and common confounder of truth.
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I have no urns, no dusty monuments No broken images of ancestors, Wanting an ear, or nose no forged tales Of long descents, to boast false honors from.
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Good men but see death, the wicked taste it.
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The soul of man is infinite in what it covets.
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Poor worms, they hiss at me, whilst I at home Can be contented to applaud myself, . . . with joy To see how plump my bags are and my barns.
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Nor shall our cups make any guilty men But at our parting, we will be, as when We innocently met.
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I'll give anything for a good copy now, be it true or false, so it be news.
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Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine.
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The covetous man never has money. The prodigal will have none shortly.
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Books are faithful repositories, which may be awhile neglected or forgotten, but when they are opened again, will again impart their instruction.
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