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There is something about poetry beyond prose logic, there is mystery in it, not to be explained but admired.
Edward Young
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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Logic
Mystery
Poetry
Beyond
Literature
Something
Admired
Explained
Prose
More quotes by Edward Young
A man I knew who lived upon a smile, And well it fed him he look'd plump and fair, While rankest venom foam'd through every vein.
Edward Young
And friend received with thumps upon the back.
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A Christian is the highest style of man.
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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.
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The man of wisdom is the man of years.
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The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie On earthly bliss it breaks at every breeze.
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Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.
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Unlearned men of books assume the care, As eunuchs are the guardians of the fair.
Edward Young
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
Wishing of all employments is the worst
Edward Young
Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace.
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As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.
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Be wise with speed a fool at forty is a fool indeed.
Edward Young
Time destroyed Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt.
Edward Young
Inhumanity is caught from man, From smiling man.
Edward Young
What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.
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Groan under gold, yet weep for want of bread.
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Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. That only, and that amply this performs.
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Time elaborately thrown away.
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Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, That all men are about to live.
Edward Young