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Time destroyed Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Time
Spilt
Procrastination
Suicide
Destroyed
Blood

More quotes by Edward Young

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Youth is not rich in time it may be poor Part with it as with money, sparing pay No moment but in purchase of its worth, And what it's worth, ask death-beds they can tell.
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Heaven wills our happiness, allows our doom.
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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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Wishing of all employments is the worst
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Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.
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Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace.
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A tardy vengeance shares the tyrant's guilt.
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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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Be wise to-day 't is madness to defer.
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We push time from us, and we wish him back * * * * * * Life we think long and short death seek and shun.
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Who combats with a brother, wounds himself.
Edward Young
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And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
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Titles are marks of honest men, and wise The fool or knave that wears a title lies.
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The spirit walks of every day deceased.
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Friendship's the wine of life.
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When pain can't bless, heaven quits us in despair.
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Nature delights in progress in advance.
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Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.
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Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
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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