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Deceivers are the most dangerous members of society. They trifle with the best affections of our nature, and violate the most sacred obligations.

George Crabbe

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George Crabbe
Age: 79 †
Born: 1754
Born: December 24
Died: 1834
Died: February 3
Entomologist
Medicine
Poet
Surgeon
Writer
Aldeburgh
Suffolk
Best
Obligation
Trifle
Affection
Violate
Sacred
Affections
Members
Dishonesty
Dangerous
Obligations
Lying
Trifles
Society
Deceit
Deceivers
Nature
Deception
Deceiver

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Men of many words sometimes argue for the sake of talking men of ready tongues frequently dispute for the sake of victory men in public life often debate for the sake of opposing the ruling party, or from any other motive than the love of truth.
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Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies, Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies The fleecy clouds their chilly bosoms bare, And shed their substance on the floating air.
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Learning is better worth than houses or land.
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Shall he who soars, inspired by loftier views, Life's little cares and little pains refuse? Shall he not rather feel a double share Of mortal woe, when doubly arm'd to bear?
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Dreams are like portraits and we find they please because they are confessed resemblances.
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Whatever amuses, serves to kill time, to lull the faculties, and to banish reflection. Whatever entertains, usually awakens the understanding or gratifies the fancy. Whatever diverts, is lively in its nature, and sometimes tumultuous in its effects.
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Blest be the gracious Power, who taught mankind To stamp a lasting image of the mind! Beasts may convey, and tuneful birds may sing, Their mutual feelings, in the opening spring But Man alone has skill and power to send The heart's warm dictates to the distant friend 'Tis his alone to please, instruct, advise Ages remote, and nations yet to rise.
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But jest apart--what virtue canst thou trace In that broad trim that hides thy sober face? Does that long-skirted drab, that over-nice And formal clothing, prove a scorn of vice? Then for thine accent--what in sound can be So void of grace as dull monotony?
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With eye upraised his master's look to scan, The joy, the solace, and the aid of man: The rich man's guardian and the poor man's friend, The only creature faithful to the end.
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We cannot heal the throbbing heart till we discern the wounds within.
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Her air, her manners, all who saw admir'd Courteous though coy, and gentle though retir'd The joy of youth and health her eyes display'd, And ease of heart her every look convey'd.
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With awe, around these silent walks I tread These are the lasting mansions of the dead.
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Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme? Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread, By winding myrtle round your ruin'd shed?
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Beauties, when disposed to sleep, Should from the eye of keen inspector keep: The lovely nymph who would her swain surprise, May close her mouth, but not conceal her eyes Sleep from the fairest face some beauty takes, And all the homely features homelier makes.
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The coward never on himself relies, But to an equal for assistance flies.
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To the house of a friend if you're pleased to retire, You must all things admit, you must all things admire You must pay with observance the price of your treat, You must eat what is praised, and must praise what you eat.
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Oh, rather give me commentators plain, Who with no deep researches vex the brain Who from the dark and doubtful love to run, And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun.
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Oh how the passions, insolent and strong, Bear our weak minds their rapid course along Make us the madness of their will obey Then die and leave us to our griefs as prey!
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An infatuated man is not only foolish, but wild.
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Tis easiest dealing with the firmest mind-- More just when it resists, and, when it yields, more kind.
George Crabbe