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O sacred hunger of ambitious minds.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Ambitious
Hunger
Sacred
Minds
Mind

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For all that faire is, is by nature goodThat is a signe to know the gentle blood.
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This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state for misery doth bravest minds abate.
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Foul jealousy! that turnest love divine to joyless dread, and makest the loving heart with hateful thoughts to languish and to pine.
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Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,And layes the soul to sleepe in quiet grave?Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.
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Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.
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Sluggish idleness--the nurse of sin.
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For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
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What though the sea with waves continuall Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all Ne is the earth the lesse, or loseth ought : For whatsoever from one place doth fall Is with the tyde unto another brought : For there is nothing lost, that may be found if sought.
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Oft stumbles at a straw.
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Unhappie Verse, the witnesse of my unhappie state, Make thy selfe fluttring wings of thy fast flying Thought
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Thankfulness is the tune of angels.
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For next to Death is Sleepe to be compared Therefore his house is unto his annext: Here Sleepe, ther Richesse, and hel-gate them both betwext.
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And thus of all my harvest-hope I have Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
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Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.
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Men, when their actions succeed not as they would, are always ready to impute the blame thereof to heaven, so as to excuse their own follies.
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Be bold, and everywhere be bold.
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Yet is there one more cursed than they all, That canker-worm, that monster, jealousie, Which eats the heart and feeds upon the gall, Turning all love's delight to misery, Through fear of losing his felicity.
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The man whom nature's self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.
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But O the exceeding grace Of highest God, that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed angels, he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe.
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Hard it is to teach the old horse to amble anew.
Edmund Spenser