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The surest way to health, say what they will, Is never to suppose we shall be ill Most of the ills which we poor mortals know From doctors and imagination flow.

Charles Churchill

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Charles Churchill
Died: 1764
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Science
Suppose
Way
Doctors
Never
Flow
Health
Shall
Ills
Imagination
Surest
Imagine
Mortals
Poor
Ill

More quotes by Charles Churchill

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What is this world?--A term which men have got, To signify not one in ten knows what A term, which with no more precision passes To point out herds of men than herds of asses In common use no more it means, we find, Than many fools in same opinions joined.
Charles Churchill
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Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air.
Charles Churchill
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Satire, whilst envy and ill-humor sway The mind of man, must always make her way Nor to a bosom, with discretion fraught, Is all her malice worth a single thought. The wise have not the will, nor fools the power, To stop her headstrong course within the hour Left to herself, she dies opposing strife Gives her fresh vigor, and prolongs her life.
Charles Churchill
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Great use they have, when in the hands Of one like me, who understands, Who understands the time and place, The person, manner, and the grace, Which fools neglect so that we find, If all the requisites are join'd, From whence a perfect joke must spring, A joke's a very serious thing.
Charles Churchill
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Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
Charles Churchill
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If you mean to profit, learn to praise.
Charles Churchill
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Wit, who never once Forgave a brother, shall forgive a dunce.
Charles Churchill
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Enough of self, that darling luscious theme, O'er which philosophers in raptures dream Of which with seeming disregard they write Then prizing most when most they seem to slight.
Charles Churchill
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Tis mighty easy o'er a glass of wine On vain refinements vainly to refine, To laugh at poverty in plenty's reign, To boast of apathy when out of pain, And in each sentence, worthy of the schools, Varnish'd with sophistry, to deal out rules Most fit for practice, but for one poor fault That into practice they can ne'er be brought.
Charles Churchill
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Weak is that throne, and in itself unsound, Which takes not solid virtue for its ground.
Charles Churchill
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Genius is of no country.
Charles Churchill
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The oak, when living, monarch of the wood The English oak, which, dead, commands the flood.
Charles Churchill
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Who all in raptures their own works rehearse, And drawl out measur'd prose, which they call verse.
Charles Churchill
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England a fortune-telling host, As num'rous as the stars, could boast Matrons, who toss the cup, and see The grounds of Fate in grounds of tea.
Charles Churchill
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With that malignant envy which turns pale, And sickens, even if a friend prevail.
Charles Churchill
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Within the brain's most secret cells, A certain lord chief justice dwells, Of sov'reign power, whom one and all, With common voice we reason call.
Charles Churchill
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Drawn by conceit from reason's plan How vain is that poor creature man How pleas'd in ev'ry paltry elf To grate about that thing himself.
Charles Churchill
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Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still.
Charles Churchill
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He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
Charles Churchill
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The rigid saint, by whom no mercy's shown To saints whose lives are better than his own.
Charles Churchill