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Ingenious to their ruin, every age improves the art and instruments of rage.
Edmund Waller
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Edmund Waller
Age: 81 †
Born: 1606
Born: March 3
Died: 1687
Died: October 21
Poet
Politician
Writer
Coleshill
Buckinghamshire
Gentleman that loves the peace
True son of the Church of England and a lover of his countries liberty
Edmund Waller
Art
Improves
Every
Ingenious
Ruin
Ruins
Rage
Instruments
Age
War
More quotes by Edmund Waller
All human things Of dearest value hang on slender strings.
Edmund Waller
Tea does our fancy aid, Repress those vapours which the head invade And keeps that palace of the soul serene.
Edmund Waller
What use of oaths, of promise, or of test, where men regard no God but interest?
Edmund Waller
Under the tropic is our language spoke, And part of Flanders hath receiv'd our yoke.
Edmund Waller
That eagle's fate and mine are one, Which, on the shaft that made him die, Espied a feather of his own, Wherewith he wont to soar so high.
Edmund Waller
Fade, flowers, fade! Nature will have it so 'tis but what we in our autumn do.
Edmund Waller
Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.
Edmund Waller
Music so softens and disarms the mind That not an arrow does resistance find.
Edmund Waller
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become.
Edmund Waller
How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
Edmund Waller
Happy the innocent whose equal thoughts are free from anguish as they are from faults.
Edmund Waller
Virtue's a stronger guard than brass.
Edmund Waller
And keeps the palace of the soul.
Edmund Waller
His kingdom come! For this we pray in vain, Unless He does in our affections reign. How fond it were to wish for such a King, And no obedience to his sceptre bring, Whose yoke is easy, and His burthen light His service freedom, and His judgments right.
Edmund Waller
Poets lose half the praise they should have got, Could it be known what they discreetly blot.
Edmund Waller
To man, that was in th' evening made, Stars gave the first delight Admiring, in the gloomy shade, Those little drops of light.
Edmund Waller
The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build, Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.
Edmund Waller
While we converse with her, we mark No want of day, nor think it dark.
Edmund Waller
Since thou wouldst needs, bewitched with some ill charms, Be buried in those monumental arms: As we can wish, is, may that earth lie light Upon thy tender limbs, and so good night.
Edmund Waller
The fear of God is freedom, joy, and peace And makes all ills that vex us here to cease.
Edmund Waller
