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The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done
Edward Young
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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Long
Unified
Never
Pie
Quite
Literature
Future
Dream
Seems
Mince
Done
Baking
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Truth never was indebted to a lie
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The course of Nature is the art of God
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Age should fly concourse, cover in retreat defects of judgment, and the will subdue walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore of that vast ocean it must sail so soon.
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Men are but men we did not make ourselves.
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Man maketh a death which Nature never made.
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The soft whispers of the God in man.
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As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.
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When men of infamy to grandeur soar, They light a torch to show their shame the more.
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Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.
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Amid my list of blessings infinite, stands this the foremost, that my heart has bled.
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But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.
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Be wise with speed a fool at forty is a fool indeed.
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Less base the fear of death than fear of life.
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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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What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire on mankind And while it satisfies, it censures too.
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Unlearned men of books assume the care, As eunuchs are the guardians of the fair.
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The man that makes a character, makes foes.
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Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
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The bell strikes One. We take no note of time But from its loss. To give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours.
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Angels are men of a superior kind Angels are men in lighter habit clad.
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