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Pity swells the tide of love.
Edward Young
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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Swells
Tide
Tides
Pity
Love
More quotes by Edward Young
When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees
Edward Young
Inhumanity is caught from man, From smiling man.
Edward Young
Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world.
Edward Young
Pygmies are pygmies still, though percht on Alps And pyramids are pyramids in vales. Each man makes his own stature, builds himself. Virtue alone outbuilds the Pyramids Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall.
Edward Young
It calls Devotion! genuine growth of night! Devotion! Daughter of Astronomy! An undevout astronomer is mad!
Edward Young
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
The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileg'd beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.
Edward Young
Final Ruin fiercely drives Her ploughshare o'er creation.
Edward Young
Man wants little, nor that little long.
Edward Young
A Christian is the highest style of man.
Edward Young
Who, for the poor renown of being smart, Would leave a sting within a brother's heart?
Edward Young
At thirty, man suspects himself a fool Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan.
Edward Young
The man that makes a character, makes foes.
Edward Young
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.
Edward Young
On every thorn, delightful wisdom grows, In every rill a sweet instruction flows.
Edward Young
We push time from us, and we wish him back * * * * * * Life we think long and short death seek and shun.
Edward Young
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.
Edward Young
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
The man that blushes is not quite a brute.
Edward Young
Tomorrow is a satire on today, And shows its weakness.
Edward Young