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When fiction rises pleasing to the eye, men will believe, because they love the lie but truth herself, if clouded with a frown, must have some solemn proof to pass her down.

Charles Churchill

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Charles Churchill
Died: 1764
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Men
Proof
Love
Pass
Fiction
Lying
Frown
Eye
Clouded
Truth
Pleasing
Must
Rises
Believe
Solemn

More quotes by Charles Churchill

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With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.
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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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The best things carried to excess are wrong.
Charles Churchill
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It can't be Nature, for it is not sense.
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.
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Who to patch up his fame, or fill his purse, Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known, Defacing first, then claiming for his own.
Charles Churchill
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Ourselves are to ourselves the cause of ill.
Charles Churchill
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If you mean to profit, learn to praise.
Charles Churchill
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Nature listening stood, whilst Shakespeare play'd And wonder'd at the work herself had made.
Charles Churchill
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Though folly, robed in purple, shines, Though vice exhausts Peruvian mines, Yet shall they tremble and turn pale When satire wields her mighty flail.
Charles Churchill
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By different methods different men excel, but where is he who can do all things well?
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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And reputation bleeds in ev'ry word.
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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Constant attention wears the active mind, Blots out our pow'rs, and leaves a blank behind.
Charles Churchill
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Gipsies, who every ill can cure, Except the ill of being poor Who charms 'gainst love and agues sell, Who can in hen-roost set a spell, Prepar'd by arts, to them best known To catch all feet except their own, Who, as to fortune, can unlock it, As easily as pick a pocket.
Charles Churchill
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Even in a hero's heart Discretion is the better part.
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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Old Age, a second child, by nature curst With more and greater evils than the first, Weak, sickly, full of pains: in ev'ry breath Railing at life, and yet afraid of death.
Charles Churchill
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Whom drink made wits, though nature made them fools.
Charles Churchill