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The man that makes a character, makes foes.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Character
Men
Foes
Foe
Makes

More quotes by Edward Young

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He sins against this life, who slights the next.
Edward Young
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Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, That all men are about to live.
Edward Young
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Truth never was indebted to a lie
Edward Young
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A friend is worth all hazards we can run.
Edward Young
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When pain can't bless, heaven quits us in despair.
Edward Young
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Read nature nature is a friend to truth.
Edward Young
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'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours, And ask them what report they bore to heaven.
Edward Young
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The clouds may drop down titles and estates, and wealth may seek us, but wisdom must be sought.
Edward Young
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Amid my list of blessings infinite, stands this the foremost, that my heart has bled.
Edward Young
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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.
Edward Young
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Like our shadows, our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
Edward Young
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As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.
Edward Young
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Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!
Edward Young
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Groan under gold, yet weep for want of bread.
Edward Young
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Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight, On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . Less base the fear of death than fear of life. O Britain! infamous for suicide.
Edward Young
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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.
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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What tender force, what dignity divine, what virtue consecrating every feature around that neck what dross are gold and pearl!
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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What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire on mankind And while it satisfies, it censures too.
Edward Young