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For all the happiness mankind can gain Is not in pleasure, but in rest from pain.
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
Gain
Gains
Mankind
Rest
Pleasure
Happiness
Pain
More quotes by John Dryden
Youth, beauty, graceful action seldom fail: But common interest always will prevail And pity never ceases to be shown To him who makes the people's wrongs his own.
John Dryden
Joy rul'd the day, and Love the night.
John Dryden
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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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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Farewell, too little, and too lately known, Whom I began to think and call my own.
John Dryden
Fiction is of the essence of poetry as well as of painting there is a resemblance in one of human bodies, things, and actions which are not real, and in the other of a true story by fiction.
John Dryden
He is a perpetual fountain of good sense.
John Dryden
I trade both with the living and the dead, for the enrichment of our native language.
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The trumpet's loud clangor Excites us to arms.
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The poorest of the sex have still an itch To know their fortunes, equal to the rich. The dairy-maid inquires, if she shall take The trusty tailor, and the cook forsake.
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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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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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Imitators are but a servile kind of cattle.
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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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If you are for a merry jaunt, I will try, for once, who can foot it farthest.
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Arts and sciences in one and the same century have arrived at great perfection and no wonder, since every age has a kind of universal genius, which inclines those that live in it to some particular studies the work then, being pushed on by many hands, must go forward.
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An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.
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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.
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The Fates but only spin the coarser clue The finest of the wool is left for you.
John Dryden
Trust reposed in noble natures obliges them the more.
John Dryden