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A God alone can comprehend a God.
Edward Young
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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Comprehend
God
Alone
More quotes by Edward Young
There buds the promise of celestial worth.
Edward Young
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.
Edward Young
They most the world enjoy who least admire.
Edward Young
Affliction is the good man's shining scene prosperity conceals his brightest ray as night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.
Edward Young
We nothing know, but what is marvellous Yet what is marvellous, we can't believe.
Edward Young
Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
Edward Young
Old men love novelties the last arriv'd Still pleases best the youngest steals their smiles.
Edward Young
Man wants little, nor that little long.
Edward Young
Ambition! powerful source of good and ill!
Edward Young
Men are but men we did not make ourselves.
Edward Young
Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world.
Edward Young
Midway from Nothing to the Deity!
Edward Young
It calls Devotion! genuine growth of night! Devotion! Daughter of Astronomy! An undevout astronomer is mad!
Edward Young
An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave legions of angels can't confine me there.
Edward Young
The man that blushes is not quite a brute.
Edward Young
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
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
A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
Edward Young
Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.
Edward Young
Thoughts shut up want air, And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.
Edward Young