Quote

Tis not too late to-morrow to be brave.

John Armstrong

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

John Armstrong
Bravery
Brave
Late
Morrow

More quotes by John Armstrong

Image
Music exalts each joy, allays each grief, expels diseases, softens every pain.
John Armstrong
Image
Know, then, whatever cheerful and serene supports the mind supports the body too.
John Armstrong
Image
Impious! forbear thus the first general hail. To disappoint, Increase and multiply, To shed thy blossoms thro' the desert air, And sow thy perish'd offspring in the winds.
John Armstrong
Image
There are, while human miseries abound, A thousand ways to waste superfluous wealth, Without one fool or flatterer at your board, Without one hour of sickness or disgust.
John Armstrong
Image
Hope is the first thing to take some sort of action.
John Armstrong
Image
How happy he whose toil Has o'er his languid pow'rless limbs diffus'd A pleasing lassitude he not in vain Invokes the gentle Deity of dreams. His pow'rs the most voluptuously dissolve In soft repose on him the balmy dews Of Sleep with double nutriment descend.
John Armstrong
Image
Time shakes the stable tyranny of thrones, And tottering empires rush by their own weight.
John Armstrong
Image
The blood, the fountain whence the spirits flow The generous stream that waters every part, And motion, vigor, and warm life conveys To every particle that moves or lives.
John Armstrong
Image
For wisest ends this universal Power Gave appetites, from whose quick impulse life Subsists, by which we only live, all life Insipid else, unactive, unenjoy'd. Hence to this peopled earth, which, that extinct, That flame for propagation, soon would roll A lifeless mass, and vainly cumber heaven.
John Armstrong
Image
Our greatest good, and what we least can spare, Is hope: the last of all our evils, fear.
John Armstrong
Image
How sickly grow, How pale, the plants in those ill-fated vales That, circled round with the gigantic heap Of mountains, never felt, nor ever hope To feel, the genial vigor of the sun!
John Armstrong
Image
Virtue and sense are one and, trust me, still A faithless heart betrays the head unsound.
John Armstrong
Image
Tis not for mortals always to be blest.
John Armstrong
Image
Ye who amid this feverish world would wear A body free of pain, of cares a mind, Fly the rank city, shun its turbid air Breathe not the chaos of eternal smoke And volatile corruption, from the dead, The dying, sickening, and the living world Exhal'd, to sully heaven's transparent dome With dim mortality.
John Armstrong
Image
To please the fancy is no trifling good, Where health is studied for whatever moves The mind with calm delight, promotes the just And natural movements of th'harmonious frame.
John Armstrong
Image
Ye youths and virgins, when your generous blood Has drunk the warmth of fifteen summers, now The loves invite now to new rapture wakes The finish'd sense: while stung with keen desire The madd'ning boy his bashful fetters bursts And, urg'd with secret flames, the riper maid, Conscious and shy, betrays her smarting breast.
John Armstrong
Image
Then love of pleasure sways each heart, and we From that no more than from ourselves can fly. Blameless when govern'd well. But where it errs Extravagant, and wildly leads to ill, Public or private, there its curbing pow'r Cool reason must exert.
John Armstrong
Image
What Nature bids is good, is wise, and faultless we obey.
John Armstrong
Image
Good native Taste, tho' rude, is seldom wrong, Be it in music, painting, or in song: But this, as well as other faculties, Improves with age and ripens by degrees.
John Armstrong
Image
Autumn ripens in the summer's ray.
John Armstrong