Quote

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
Literature
Murder
Law
Destroy
War
Fame
Specious
Fear
Gives
Lifted
Keep
Name
Awe
Art
Takes
Immortal
Hands
Hand
Glorious
Giving
Names
Thousands

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Nature delights in progress in advance.
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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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What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire on mankind And while it satisfies, it censures too.
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Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, That all men are about to live.
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But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.
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Time destroyed Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt.
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The qualities all in a bee that we meet, In an epigram never should fail The body should always be little and sweet, And a sting should be felt in its tail.
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Woes cluster. Rare are solitary woes They love a train, they tread each other's heel.
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What tender force, what dignity divine, what virtue consecrating every feature around that neck what dross are gold and pearl!
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One eye on death, and one full fix'd on heaven.
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A tardy vengeance shares the tyrant's guilt.
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The man of wisdom is the man of years.
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Man maketh a death which Nature never made.
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The course of Nature is the art of God
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Inhumanity is caught from man, From smiling man.
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What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.
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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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Man wants little, nor that little long.
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Heaven wills our happiness, allows our doom.
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'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours, And ask them what report they bore to heaven.
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