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Time elaborately thrown away.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Elaborately
Thrown
Away
Time

More quotes by Edward Young

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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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But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.
Edward Young
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We nothing know, but what is marvellous Yet what is marvellous, we can't believe.
Edward Young
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When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees
Edward Young
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When men of infamy to grandeur soar, They light a torch to show their shame the more.
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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Where boasting ends, there dignity begins.
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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A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
Edward Young
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Whose yesterdays look backwards with a smile.
Edward Young
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He sins against this life, who slights the next.
Edward Young
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Where Nature's end of language is declin'd, And men talk only to conceal the mind.
Edward Young
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O! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, Lost to the noble sallies of the soul! Who think it solitude to be alone.
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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Heaven wills our happiness, allows our doom.
Edward Young
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The blood will follow where the knife is driven, The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.
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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Friendship's the wine of life.
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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Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world.
Edward Young