Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
Charles Churchill
Share
Change background
T
T
T
Change font
Original
TAGS & TOPICS
Charles Churchill
Died: 1764
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Hurt
Lavishly
Friends
Dreads
Foes
Foe
Greatly
Hurts
Dread
Friendship
Commends
More quotes by Charles Churchill
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
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
The rigid saint, by whom no mercy's shown To saints whose lives are better than his own.
Charles Churchill
Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air.
Charles Churchill
He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
Charles Churchill
And reputation bleeds in ev'ry word.
Charles Churchill
He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
Charles Churchill
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
By different methods different men excel, but where is he who can do all things well?
Charles Churchill
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
Ourselves are to ourselves the cause of ill.
Charles Churchill
With that malignant envy which turns pale, And sickens, even if a friend prevail.
Charles Churchill
Patience is sorrow's salve.
Charles Churchill
Truth! why shall every wretch of letters Dare to speak truth against his betters! Let ragged virtue stand aloof, Nor mutter accents of reproof Let ragged wit a mute become, When wealth and power would have her dumb.
Charles Churchill
Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still.
Charles Churchill
Enough of satire in less harden'd times Great was her force, and mighty were her rhymes. I've read of men, beyond man's daring brave, Who yet have trembled at the strokes she gave Whose souls have felt more terrible alarms From her one line, than from a world in arms.
Charles Churchill
The oak, when living, monarch of the wood The English oak, which, dead, commands the flood.
Charles Churchill
Quick-circulating slanders mirth afford and reputation bleeds in every word.
Charles Churchill
Even in a hero's heart Discretion is the better part.
Charles Churchill
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