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It calls Devotion! genuine growth of night! Devotion! Daughter of Astronomy! An undevout astronomer is mad!

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Daughter
Astronomer
Growth
Astronomers
Night
Astronomy
Devotion
Calls
Mad
Madness
Genuine

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When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees
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Time destroyed Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt.
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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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Time elaborately thrown away.
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Who combats with a brother, wounds himself.
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How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!... Midway from nothing to the Deity!
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Where Nature's end of language is declin'd, And men talk only to conceal the mind.
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Tomorrow is a satire on today, And shows its weakness.
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Man maketh a death which Nature never made.
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Wonder is involuntary praise.
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A friend is worth all hazards we can run.
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Be wise with speed a fool at forty is a fool indeed.
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Titles are marks of honest men, and wise The fool or knave that wears a title lies.
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Prayer ardent opens heaven.
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And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
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Who lives to Nature, rarely can be poor who lives to fancy, never can be rich.
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A dedication is a wooden leg.
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Think naught a trifle, though it small appear Small stands the mountain, moments make the year, and trifles life.
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When pain can't bless, heaven quits us in despair.
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Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
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