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Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Mark
Death
Love
Signal
Signals
Shining
Blow
Loves

More quotes by Edward Young

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A God alone can comprehend a God.
Edward Young
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Like our shadows, our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
Edward Young
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One eye on death, and one full fix'd on heaven.
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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Fame is the shade of immortality, And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, Contemn'd it shrinks to nothing in the grasp.
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Day buries day month, month and year the year: Our life is but a chain of many deaths.
Edward Young
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Unlearned men of books assume the care, As eunuchs are the guardians of the fair.
Edward Young
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Angels are men of a superior kind Angels are men in lighter habit clad.
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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The course of Nature is the art of God
Edward Young
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The man that blushes is not quite a brute.
Edward Young
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Be wise to-day 't is madness to defer.
Edward Young
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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
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Inhumanity is caught from man, From smiling man.
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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An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave legions of angels can't confine me there.
Edward Young
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Affliction is the good man's shining scene prosperity conceals his brightest ray as night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.
Edward Young
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The man who builds, and wants wherewith to pay, Provides a home from which to run away.
Edward Young
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Time destroyed Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt.
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