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How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!... Midway from nothing to the Deity!

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Deities
August
Wonderful
Rich
Poor
Complicate
Nothing
Midway
Men
Abject
Deity

More quotes by Edward Young

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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.
Edward Young
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Unlearned men of books assume the care, As eunuchs are the guardians of the fair.
Edward Young
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'T is greatly wise to talk with our past hours, And ask them what report they bore to heaven.
Edward Young
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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.
Edward Young
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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.
Edward Young
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Where Nature's end of language is declin'd, And men talk only to conceal the mind.
Edward Young
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The qualities all in a bee that we meet, In an epigram never should fail The body should always be little and sweet, And a sting should be felt in its tail.
Edward Young
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What ardently we wish, we soon believe.
Edward Young
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Man maketh a death which Nature never made.
Edward Young
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There buds the promise of celestial worth.
Edward Young
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Youth is not rich in time it may be poor Part with it as with money, sparing pay No moment but in purchase of its worth, And what it's worth, ask death-beds they can tell.
Edward Young
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Where boasting ends, there dignity begins.
Edward Young
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Oh, how portentous is prosperity! How comet-like, it threatens while it shines.
Edward Young
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Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.
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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It is great and manly to disdain disguise it shows our spirit and proves our strength.
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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Men are but men we did not make ourselves.
Edward Young
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Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
Edward Young
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Like our shadows, our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
Edward Young