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The soft whispers of the God in man.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Soft
Conscience
Men
Whispers

More quotes by Edward Young

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When men of infamy to grandeur soar, They light a torch to show their shame the more.
Edward Young
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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.
Edward Young
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The blood will follow where the knife is driven, The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.
Edward Young
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When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees
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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Of boasting more than of a bomb afraid, A soldier should be modest as a maid.
Edward Young
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This is the bud of being, the dim dawn, The twilight of our day, the vestibule Life's theatre as yet is shut, and death, Strong death, alone can heave the massy bar, This gross impediment of clay remove, And make us embryos of existence free.
Edward Young
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On every thorn, delightful wisdom grows, In every rill a sweet instruction flows.
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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A tardy vengeance shares the tyrant's guilt.
Edward Young
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A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
Edward Young
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And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
Edward Young
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Time elaborately thrown away.
Edward Young
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Like our shadows, our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
Edward Young
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Give me, indulgent gods with mind serene, And guiltless heart, to range the sylvan scene, No splendid poverty, no smiling care, No well-bred hate, or servile grandeur, there.
Edward Young
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Who combats with a brother, wounds himself.
Edward Young
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Men are but men we did not make ourselves.
Edward Young
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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.
Edward Young
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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.
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