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He sins against this life, who slights the next.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Slights
Sins
Sin
Next
Life

More quotes by 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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A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
Edward Young
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One eye on death, and one full fix'd on heaven.
Edward Young
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The clouds may drop down titles and estates, and wealth may seek us, but wisdom must be sought.
Edward Young
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Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves. Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still.
Edward Young
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Old men love novelties the last arriv'd Still pleases best the youngest steals their smiles.
Edward Young
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By night an atheist half-believes in God.
Edward Young
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'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours, And ask them what report they bore to heaven.
Edward Young
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Praise, more divine than prayer prayer points our ready path to heaven praise is already there.
Edward Young
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Final Ruin fiercely drives Her ploughshare o'er creation.
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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Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!
Edward Young
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Oh, how portentous is prosperity! How comet-like, it threatens while it shines.
Edward Young
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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
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Thoughts shut up want air, And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.
Edward Young
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Insatiate archer! could not one suffice? Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had filled her horn.
Edward Young
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Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
Edward Young
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What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire on mankind And while it satisfies, it censures too.
Edward Young
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Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.
Edward Young
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Virtue alone has majesty in death.
Edward Young