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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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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Giving
Wise
Bells
Men
Heard
Spoke
Time
Hours
Note
Knell
Sound
Strikes
Aright
Give
Tongue
Departed
Take
Notes
Bell
Feel
Angel
Solemn
Feels
Loss
Spokes
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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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As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.
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Oh, how portentous is prosperity! How comet-like, it threatens while it shines.
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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.
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Men are but men we did not make ourselves.
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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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Heaven wills our happiness, allows our doom.
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When pain can't bless, heaven quits us in despair.
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Affliction is a good man's shining time.
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The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done
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Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
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Final Ruin fiercely drives Her ploughshare o'er creation.
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