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Politicians neither love nor hate.

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
Politicians
Neither
Politician
Hate
Love

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Farewell, too little, and too lately known, Whom I began to think and call my own.
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Discover the opinion of your enemies, which is commonly the truest for they will give you no quarter, and allow nothing to complaisance.
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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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Railing in other men may be a crime, But ought to pass for mere instinct in him: Instinct he follows and no further knows, For to write verse with him is to transprose.
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He who would search for pearls must dive below.
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Having mourned your sin, for outward Eden lost, find paradise within.
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Not sharp revenge, nor hell itself can find, A fiercer torment than a guilty mind, Which day and night doth dreadfully accuse, Condemns the wretch, and still the charge renews.
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Secret guilt by silence is betrayed.
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What passion cannot music raise and quell!
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Truth is the object of our understanding, as good is of our will and the understanding can no more be delighted with a lie than the will can choose an apparent evil.
John Dryden
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Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.
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Reason to rule, mercy to forgive: The first is law, the last prerogative. Life is an adventure in forgiveness.
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For danger levels man and brute And all are fellows in their need.
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For thee, sweet month the groves green liveries wear. If not the first, the fairest of the year For thee the Graces lead the dancing hours, And Nature's ready pencil paints the flowers. When thy short reign is past, the feverish sun The sultry tropic fears, and moves more slowly on.
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He wants worth who dares not praise a foe.
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Heroic poetry has ever been esteemed the greatest work of human nature.
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The perverseness of my fate is such that he's not mine because he's mine too much.
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Interest makes all seem reason that leads to it.
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I maintain, against the enemies of the stage, that patterns of piety, decently represented, may second the precepts.
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The blushing beauties of a modest maid.
John Dryden