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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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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Assuming
Fairs
Fair
Eunuchs
Library
Unlearned
Books
Guardians
Care
Librarian
Book
Guardian
Men
Assume

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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.
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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.
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Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.
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Who combats with a brother, wounds himself.
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Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!
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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.
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Read nature nature is a friend to truth.
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Insatiate archer! could not one suffice? Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had filled her horn.
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Where boasting ends, there dignity begins.
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I've known my lady (for she loves a tune) For fevers take an opera in June: And, though perhaps you'll think the practice bold, A midnight park is sov'reign for a cold.
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The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done
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None think the great unhappy, but the great.
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It is great and manly to disdain disguise it shows our spirit and proves our strength.
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Affliction is a good man's shining time.
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And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
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A land of levity is a land of guilt.
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Who lives to Nature, rarely can be poor who lives to fancy, never can be rich.
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Age should fly concourse, cover in retreat defects of judgment, and the will subdue walk thoughtful on the silent, solemn shore of that vast ocean it must sail so soon.
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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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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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