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One to destroy, is murder by the law and gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe to murder thousands, takes a specious name, 'War's glorious art', and gives immortal fame.
Edward Young
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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Fear
Gives
Lifted
Keep
Name
Awe
Art
Takes
Immortal
Hands
Hand
Glorious
Giving
Names
Thousands
Literature
Murder
Law
Destroy
War
Fame
Specious
More quotes by Edward Young
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
Where boasting ends, there dignity begins.
Edward Young
Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.
Edward Young
Who gives an empire, by the gift defeats All end of giving and procures contempt Instead of gratitude.
Edward Young
Accept a miracle, instead of wit See two dull lines, with Stanhope's pencil writ.
Edward Young
Wishing of all employments is the worst
Edward Young
How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!... Midway from nothing to the Deity!
Edward Young
He sins against this life, who slights the next.
Edward Young
Final Ruin fiercely drives Her ploughshare o'er creation.
Edward Young
The man that makes a character, makes foes.
Edward Young
He that's ungrateful has no guilt but one All other crimes may pass for virtues in him.
Edward Young
What tender force, what dignity divine, what virtue consecrating every feature around that neck what dross are gold and pearl!
Edward Young
It calls Devotion! genuine growth of night! Devotion! Daughter of Astronomy! An undevout astronomer is mad!
Edward Young
And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
Edward Young
They most the world enjoy who least admire.
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
Pity swells the tide of love.
Edward Young
What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire on mankind And while it satisfies, it censures too.
Edward Young
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
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