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As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Gives
Stars
Night
Giving
Men
Lustre
Woe
Affliction

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Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, That all men are about to live.
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Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.
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Accept a miracle, instead of wit See two dull lines, with Stanhope's pencil writ.
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Unlearned men of books assume the care, As eunuchs are the guardians of the fair.
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A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
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There is nothing of which men are more liberal than their good advice, be their stock of it ever so small because it seems to carry in it an intimation of their own influence, importance or worth.
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A land of levity is a land of guilt.
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Men are but men we did not make ourselves.
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A Christian is the highest style of man.
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The course of Nature is the art of God
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Of boasting more than of a bomb afraid, A soldier should be modest as a maid.
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When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees
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What ardently we wish, we soon believe.
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The purpose firm is equal to the deed
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Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.
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Horace appears in good humor while he censures, and therefore his censure has the more weight, as supposed to proceed from judgment and not from passion.
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Inhumanity is caught from man, From smiling man.
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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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Day buries day month, month and year the year: Our life is but a chain of many deaths.
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Final Ruin fiercely drives Her ploughshare o'er creation.
Edward Young