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He invades authors like a monarch and what would be theft in other poets is only victory in him.
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
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Aldwincle
Northamptonshire
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Monarchs
Theft
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Invades
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Monarch
More quotes by John Dryden
Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease.
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Courage from hearts and not from numbers grows.
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More liberty begets desire of more The hunger still increases with the store
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Pleasure never comes sincere to man but lent by heaven upon hard usury.
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Trust on and think To-morrow will repay To-morrow's falser than the former day Lies worse and while it says, we shall be blest With some new Joys, cuts off what we possest.
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I have a soul that like an ample shield Can take in all, and verge enough for more.
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But how can finite grasp Infinity?
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We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.
John Dryden
A woman's counsel brought us first to woe, And made her man his paradise forego, Where at heart's ease he liv'd and might have been As free from sorrow as he was from sin.
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They, who would combat general authority with particular opinion, must first establish themselves a reputation of understanding better than other men.
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I feel my sinews slackened with the fright, and a cold sweat trills down all over my limbs, as if I were dissolving into water.
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There is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know.
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For what can power give more than food and drink, To live at ease, and not be bound to think?
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Mighty things from small beginnings grow.
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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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Love is love's reward.
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Doeg, though without knowing how or why, Made still a blundering kind of melody Spurr'd boldly on, and dash'd through thick and thin, Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in Free from all meaning whether good or bad, And in one word, heroically mad.
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All habits gather by unseen degrees.
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For danger levels man and brute And all are fellows in their need.
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I strongly wish for what I faintly hope like the daydreams of melancholy men, I think and think in things impossible, yet love to wander in that golden maze.
John Dryden
