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Man wants little, nor that little long.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Wants
Littles
Little
Long
Men

More quotes by Edward Young

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Prayer ardent opens heaven.
Edward Young
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Angels are men of a superior kind Angels are men in lighter habit clad.
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A land of levity is a land of guilt.
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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The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done
Edward Young
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Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.
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Time destroyed Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt.
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Read nature nature is a friend to truth.
Edward Young
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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.
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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Be wise with speed a fool at forty is a fool indeed.
Edward Young
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It is great and manly to disdain disguise it shows our spirit and proves our strength.
Edward Young
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Man makes a death which Nature never made. And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one.
Edward Young
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A dedication is a wooden leg.
Edward Young
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The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie On earthly bliss it breaks at every breeze.
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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Accept a miracle, instead of wit See two dull lines, with Stanhope's pencil writ.
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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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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Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world.
Edward Young