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Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still.

Charles Churchill

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Charles Churchill
Died: 1764
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Faults
England
Stills
Still
Country

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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With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.
Charles Churchill
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It can't be Nature, for it is not sense.
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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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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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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Fool beckons fool, and dunce awakens dunce.
Charles Churchill
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To copy faults is want of sense.
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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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 her pure ray Spreads all abroad, as general as the day.
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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The Scots are poor, cries surly English pride True is the charge, nor by themselves denied. Are they not then in strictest reason clear, Who wisely come to mend their fortunes here?
Charles Churchill
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Patience is sorrow's salve.
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
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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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And reputation bleeds in ev'ry word.
Charles Churchill
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Wit, who never once Forgave a brother, shall forgive a dunce.
Charles Churchill
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Though by whim, envy, or resentment led, they damn those authors whom they never read.
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