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The man of wisdom is the man of years.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Wisdom
Years
Men

More quotes by 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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Woes cluster. Rare are solitary woes They love a train, they tread each other's heel.
Edward Young
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This is the bud of being, the dim dawn, The twilight of our day, the vestibule Life's theatre as yet is shut, and death, Strong death, alone can heave the massy bar, This gross impediment of clay remove, And make us embryos of existence free.
Edward Young
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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.
Edward Young
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The spirit walks of every day deceased.
Edward Young
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Nature delights in progress in advance.
Edward Young
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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.
Edward Young
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A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
Edward Young
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It is great and manly to disdain disguise it shows our spirit and proves our strength.
Edward Young
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Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.
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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Tomorrow is a satire on today, And shows its weakness.
Edward Young
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The man who consecrates his hours by vigorous effort, and an honest aim, at once he draws the sting of life and Death he walks with nature and her paths are peace.
Edward Young
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What ardently we wish, we soon believe.
Edward Young
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There is something about poetry beyond prose logic, there is mystery in it, not to be explained but admired.
Edward Young
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There buds the promise of celestial worth.
Edward Young
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On every thorn, delightful wisdom grows, In every rill a sweet instruction flows.
Edward Young
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Time destroyed Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt.
Edward Young
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Men are but men we did not make ourselves.
Edward Young
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When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees
Edward Young