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He that's ungrateful has no guilt but one All other crimes may pass for virtues in him.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Virtues
Guilt
Pass
Crime
Virtue
May
Ingratitude
Ungrateful
Crimes

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Praise, more divine than prayer prayer points our ready path to heaven praise is already there.
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The spirit walks of every day deceased.
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Where Nature's end of language is declin'd, And men talk only to conceal the mind.
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Man wants little, nor that little long.
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Think naught a trifle, though it small appear Small stands the mountain, moments make the year, and trifles life.
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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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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.
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Old men love novelties the last arriv'd Still pleases best the youngest steals their smiles.
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When pain can't bless, heaven quits us in despair.
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Wouldst thou be famed? have those high acts in view, Brave men would act though scandal would ensue.
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When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees
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Men are but men we did not make ourselves.
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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.
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What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.
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Who lives to Nature, rarely can be poor who lives to fancy, never can be rich.
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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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Polite diseases make some idiots vain, Which, if unfortunately well, they feign.
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Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed: Who does the best his circumstance allows Does well, acts nobly angels could no more.
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Men before you have quit smoking - you can too!
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