Quote

For trash and toys, And grief-engend'ring joys, What torment seems too sharp for flesh and blood What bitter pills, Compos'd of real ills, Men swallow down to purchase one false good!

Francis Quarles

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Francis Quarles
Age: 52 †
Born: 1592
Born: May 8
Died: 1644
Died: September 8
Author
Poet
Writer
Havering
Blood
Sharp
Ills
Seems
Ring
Purchase
Real
Rings
Swallow
Good
Bitter
Pills
Men
False
Torment
Flesh
Joys
Grief
Trash
Joy
Toys

More quotes by Francis Quarles

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Hath any wronged thee? be bravely revenged slight it, and the work is begun forgive it, and it is finished he is below himself that is not above an injury.
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To fear death is the way to live long to lie afraid of death is to be long a dying.
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Meditation is the life of the soul: Action, the soul of meditation and honor the reward of action.
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My soul, the seas are rough, and thou a stranger In these false coasts O keep aloof there's danger Cast forth thy plummet see, a rock appears Thy ships want sea-room make it with thy tears.
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Heaven is never deaf but when man's heart is dumb.
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Thy ignorance in unrevealed mysteries is the mother of a saving faith, and thy understanding in revealed truths is the mother of a sacred knowledge understand not therefore that thou mayest believe, but believe that thou mayest understand understanding is the wages of a lively faith and faith is the reward of an humble ignorance.
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If thou desire to be held wise, be so wise as to hold thy tongue.
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Thy pride is but the prologue of thy shame where vain-glory commands, there folly counsels where pride rides, there shame lackeys.
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Our God and Souldiers we alike adore,Evn at the Brink of danger not before:After deliverance, both alike requiredOur Gods forgotten, and our Souldiers slighted.
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Think not thy love to God merits God's love to thee His acceptance of thy duty crowns His own gifts in thee man's love to God is nothing but a faint reflection of God's love to man.
Francis Quarles
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Of all vices take heed of drunkenness other vices are but fruits of disordered affections--this disorders, nay, banishes reason other vices but impair the soul--this demolishes her two chief faculties, the understanding and the will other vices make their own way--this makes way for all vices he that is a drunkard is qualified for all vice.
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That friendship will not continue to the end which is begun for an end.
Francis Quarles
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Deliberate long before thou consecrate a friend, and when thy impartial justice concludes him worthy of thy bosom, receive him joyfully, and entertain him wisely impart thy secrets boldly, and mingle thy thoughts with his: he is thy very self and use him so if thou firmly think him faithful, thou makest him so.
Francis Quarles
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Tis not, to cry God mercy, or to sit And droop, or to confess that thou hast fail'd: 'Tis to bewail the sins thou didst commit: And not commit those sins thou hast bewail' d. He that bewails and not forsakes them too Confesses rather what he means to do.
Francis Quarles
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Take heed thou trust not the deceitful lap Of wanton Dalilah the world's a trap.
Francis Quarles
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Other vices make their own way this makes way for all vices. He that is a drunkard is qualified for all vice.
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See, here's a shadow found the human nature Is made th' umbrella to the Deity, To catch the sunbeams of thy just Creator Beneath this covert thou may'st safely lie.
Francis Quarles
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If God send thee a cross, take it up willingly and follow him. Use it wisely, lest it be unprofitable. Bear it patiently, lest it be intolerable. If it be light, slight it not. If it be heavy, murmur not. After the cross is the crown.
Francis Quarles
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Becoming fearless isn't the point. That's impossible. It's learning how to control your fear, how to be free from it, that's the point. Necessity of action takes away the fear of the act, and makes bold resolution the favorite of fortune.
Francis Quarles
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Virtue is nothing but an act of loving that which is to be beloved, and that act is prudence, from whence not to be removed by constraint is fortitude not to be allured by enticements is temperance not to be diverted by pride is justice.
Francis Quarles