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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
Whispers
Soft
Conscience
Men

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Truth never was indebted to a lie
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Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
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Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, That all men are about to live.
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It is great and manly to disdain disguise it shows our spirit and proves our strength.
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Be wise to-day 't is madness to defer.
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Inhumanity is caught from man, From smiling man.
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Man wants little, nor that little long.
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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.
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Heaven wills our happiness, allows our doom.
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The clouds may drop down titles and estates, and wealth may seek us, but wisdom must be sought.
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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.
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A Christian is the highest style of man.
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Time destroyed Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt.
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Thoughts shut up want air, And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.
Edward Young
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When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees
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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.
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Like our shadows, our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
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The blood will follow where the knife is driven, The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.
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The spirit walks of every day deceased.
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How blessings brighten as they take their flight.
Edward Young