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Amongst the sons of men how few are known Who dare be just to merit not their own.
Charles Churchill
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Charles Churchill
Died: 1764
Died: November 4
Poet
Writer
City of Westminster
Justice
Known
Men
Amongst
Sons
Merit
Dare
Son
More quotes by Charles Churchill
Ourselves are to ourselves the cause of ill.
Charles Churchill
Constant attention wears the active mind, Blots out our pow'rs, and leaves a blank behind.
Charles Churchill
The oak, when living, monarch of the wood The English oak, which, dead, commands the flood.
Charles Churchill
Fool beckons fool, and dunce awakens dunce.
Charles Churchill
Who all in raptures their own works rehearse, And drawl out measur'd prose, which they call verse.
Charles Churchill
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
It can't be Nature, for it is not sense.
Charles Churchill
With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.
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
He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
Charles Churchill
To copy faults is want of sense.
Charles Churchill
The best things carried to excess are wrong.
Charles Churchill
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
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
Weak is that throne, and in itself unsound, Which takes not solid virtue for its ground.
Charles Churchill
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
The rigid saint, by whom no mercy's shown To saints whose lives are better than his own.
Charles Churchill
Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
Charles Churchill
Whom drink made wits, though nature made them fools.
Charles Churchill
Genius is of no country her pure ray Spreads all abroad, as general as the day.
Charles Churchill