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Men are but men we did not make ourselves.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Make
Men

More quotes by 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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Pygmies are pygmies still, though percht on Alps And pyramids are pyramids in vales. Each man makes his own stature, builds himself. Virtue alone outbuilds the Pyramids Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall.
Edward Young
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Time destroyed Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt.
Edward Young
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The course of Nature is the art of God
Edward Young
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Prayer ardent opens heaven.
Edward Young
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Inhumanity is caught from man, From smiling man.
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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He sins against this life, who slights the next.
Edward Young
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Wouldst thou be famed? have those high acts in view, Brave men would act though scandal would ensue.
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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Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
Edward Young
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Polite diseases make some idiots vain, Which, if unfortunately well, they feign.
Edward Young
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I've known my lady (for she loves a tune) For fevers take an opera in June: And, though perhaps you'll think the practice bold, A midnight park is sov'reign for a cold.
Edward Young
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Be wise to-day 't is madness to defer.
Edward Young
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Man makes a death which Nature never made. And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one.
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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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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Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. That only, and that amply this performs.
Edward Young
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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.
Edward Young
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But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.
Edward Young