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For truth has such a face and such a mien, as to be loved needs only to be seen.

John Dryden

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John Dryden
Age: 68 †
Born: 1631
Born: August 7
Died: 1700
Died: May 12
Hymnwriter
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Aldwincle
Northamptonshire
Mien
Loved
Seen
Literature
Face
Faces
Truth
Needs

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I saw myself the lambent easy light Gild the brown horror, and dispel the night.
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If you have lived, take thankfully the past. Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.
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My right eye itches, some good luck is near.
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They first condemn that first advised the ill.
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War is a trade of kings.
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Our souls sit close and silently within, And their own web from their own entrails spin And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.
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Griefs assured are felt before they come.
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Imagination in a poet is a faculty so wild and lawless that, like a high ranging spaniel, it must have clogs tied to it, lest it outrun the judgment. The great easiness of blank verse renders the poet too luxuriant. He is tempted to say many things which might better be omitted, or, at least shut up in fewer words.
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Secret guilt is by silence revealed.
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Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit, The power of beauty I remember yet.
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Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair.
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The thought of being nothing after death is a burden insupportable to a virtuous man.
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Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.
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A good conscience is a port which is landlocked on every side, where no winds can possibly invade. There a man may not only see his own image, but that of his Maker, clearly reflected from the undisturbed waters.
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