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Final Ruin fiercely drives Her ploughshare o'er creation.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Creation
Society
Fiercely
Drives
Ruin
Ruins
Final
Finals

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Ambition! powerful source of good and ill!
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Tomorrow is a satire on today, And shows its weakness.
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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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Groan under gold, yet weep for want of bread.
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Be wise to-day 't is madness to defer.
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The spirit walks of every day deceased.
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Truth never was indebted to a lie
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Time elaborately thrown away.
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'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours, And ask them what report they bore to heaven.
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One to destroy, is murder by the law and gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe to murder thousands, takes a specious name, 'War's glorious art', and gives immortal fame.
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An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave legions of angels can't confine me there.
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Day buries day month, month and year the year: Our life is but a chain of many deaths.
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On every thorn, delightful wisdom grows, In every rill a sweet instruction flows.
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Wouldst thou be famed? have those high acts in view, Brave men would act though scandal would ensue.
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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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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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.
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When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees
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Oh, how portentous is prosperity! How comet-like, it threatens while it shines.
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A tardy vengeance shares the tyrant's guilt.
Edward Young