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A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Literature
Running
Soul
Inhabitant
Without
Pile
Like
Ruin
Runs
Ruins
Reflection

More quotes by Edward Young

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What ardently we wish, we soon believe.
Edward Young
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O! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, Lost to the noble sallies of the soul! Who think it solitude to be alone.
Edward Young
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Men are but men we did not make ourselves.
Edward Young
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Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight, On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . Less base the fear of death than fear of life. O Britain! infamous for suicide.
Edward Young
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Horace appears in good humor while he censures, and therefore his censure has the more weight, as supposed to proceed from judgment and not from passion.
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The man of wisdom is the man of years.
Edward Young
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There buds the promise of celestial worth.
Edward Young
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Like our shadows, our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
Edward Young
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And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
Edward Young
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Less base the fear of death than fear of life.
Edward Young
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'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours, And ask them what report they bore to heaven.
Edward Young
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Wishing of all employments is the worst
Edward Young
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Insatiate archer! could not one suffice? Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had filled her horn.
Edward Young
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Ambition! powerful source of good and ill!
Edward Young
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Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves. Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still.
Edward Young
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He sins against this life, who slights the next.
Edward Young
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They most the world enjoy who least admire.
Edward Young
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Amid my list of blessings infinite, stands this the foremost, that my heart has bled.
Edward Young
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Fame is the shade of immortality, And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, Contemn'd it shrinks to nothing in the grasp.
Edward Young
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When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees
Edward Young