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And write whatever Time shall bring to pass With pens of adamant on plates of brass.

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
Whatever
Write
Adamant
Writing
Brass
Time
Plates
Pens
Pass
Bring
Shall

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And that one hunting, which the Devil design'd For one fair female, lost him half the kind.
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The gods, (if gods to goodness are inclined If acts of mercy touch their heavenly mind), And, more than all the gods, your generous heart, Conscious of worth, requite its own desert!
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Light sufferings give us leisure to complain.
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He invades authors like a monarch and what would be theft in other poets is only victory in him.
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For every inch that is not fool, is rogue.
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Honor is but an empty bubble.
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Whistling to keep myself from being afraid.
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I'm a little wounded, but I am not slain I will lay me down to bleed a while. Then I'll rise and fight again.
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