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So over violent, or over civil that every man with him was God or Devil.

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
Men
Extremes
Civil
Violent
God
Devil
Every

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My love's a noble madness.
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The winds are out of breath.
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Forgiveness to the injured does belong but they ne'er pardon who have done wrong.
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How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
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Many things impossible to thought have been by need to full perfection brought.
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Secret guilt by silence is betrayed.
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At home the hateful names of parties cease, And factious souls are wearied into peace.
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I saw myself the lambent easy light Gild the brown horror, and dispel the night.
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Who climbs the grammar-tree, distinctly knows Where noun, and verb, and participle grows.
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If you are for a merry jaunt, I will try, for once, who can foot it farthest.
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Welcome, thou kind deceiver! Thou best of thieves who, with an easy key, Dost open life, and, unperceived by us, Even steal us from ourselves.
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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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None, none descends into himself, to find The secret imperfections of his mind: But every one is eagle-ey'd to see Another's faults, and his deformity.
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The blushing beauties of a modest maid.
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Old age creeps on us ere we think it nigh.
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Bacchus ever fair and young, Drinking joys did first ordain. Bachus's blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure, Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure- Sweet is pleasure after pain.
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The thought of being nothing after death is a burden insupportable to a virtuous man.
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Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes... Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.
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