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When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit Trust on, and think tomorrow will repay. Tomorrow's falser than the former day.
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
Consider
Tomorrow
Trust
Repay
Hope
Fooled
Men
Favour
Think
Deceit
Thinking
Cheat
Life
Former
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Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.
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The end of satire is the amendment of vices by correction and he who writes honestly is no more an enemy to the offender than the physician to the patient when he prescribes harsh remedies.
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All empire is no more than power in trust.
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Every age has a kind of universal genius, which inclines those that live in it to some particular studies.
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A narrow mind begets obstinacy we do not easily believe what we cannot see.
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The soft complaining flute, In dying notes, discovers The woes of hopeless lovers.
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The winds are out of breath.
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Youth should watch joys and shoot them as they fly.
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Like pilgrims to th' appointed place we tend The World's an Inn, and Death the journey's end.
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If the faults of men in orders are only to be judged among themselves, they are all in some sort parties for, since they say the honour of their order is concerned in every member of it, how can we be sure that they will be impartial judges?
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Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, The wise, for cure, on exercise depend God never made his work for man to mend.
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The longest tyranny that ever sway'd Was that wherein our ancestors betray'd Their free-born reason to the Stagirite [Aristotle], And made his torch their universal light. So truth, while only one suppli'd the state, Grew scarce, and dear, and yet sophisticate.
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The wretched have no friends.
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None are so busy as the fool and the knave.
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You see through love, and that deludes your sight, As what is straight seems crooked through the water.
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There is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know.
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The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes And gaping mouth, that testified surprise.
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Prodigious actions may as well be done, by weaver's issue, as the prince's son.
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Seas are the fields of combat for the winds but when they sweep along some flowery coast, their wings move mildly, and their rage is lost.
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