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Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Great
Life
Joins
Sympathy
Desert
Solitude
Majority
Literature
Death

More quotes by Edward Young

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Angels are men of a superior kind Angels are men in lighter habit clad.
Edward Young
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Final Ruin fiercely drives Her ploughshare o'er creation.
Edward Young
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Give me, indulgent gods with mind serene, And guiltless heart, to range the sylvan scene, No splendid poverty, no smiling care, No well-bred hate, or servile grandeur, there.
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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Read nature nature is a friend to truth.
Edward Young
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The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileg'd beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.
Edward Young
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A tardy vengeance shares the tyrant's guilt.
Edward Young
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How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!... Midway from nothing to the Deity!
Edward Young
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The man who builds, and wants wherewith to pay, Provides a home from which to run away.
Edward Young
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Pygmies are pygmies still, though percht on Alps And pyramids are pyramids in vales. Each man makes his own stature, builds himself. Virtue alone outbuilds the Pyramids Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall.
Edward Young
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Groan under gold, yet weep for want of bread.
Edward Young
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Less base the fear of death than fear of life.
Edward Young
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Woes cluster. Rare are solitary woes They love a train, they tread each other's heel.
Edward Young
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An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave legions of angels can't confine me there.
Edward Young
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Polite diseases make some idiots vain, Which, if unfortunately well, they feign.
Edward Young
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I've known my lady (for she loves a tune) For fevers take an opera in June: And, though perhaps you'll think the practice bold, A midnight park is sov'reign for a cold.
Edward Young
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He that's ungrateful has no guilt but one All other crimes may pass for virtues in him.
Edward Young
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Men are but men we did not make ourselves.
Edward Young
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Where Nature's end of language is declin'd, And men talk only to conceal the mind.
Edward Young
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The blood will follow where the knife is driven, The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.
Edward Young