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Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure,- Sweet is pleasure after 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
Sweet
Rich
Pleasure
Pain
Bacchus
Treasure

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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.
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Restless at home, and ever prone to range.
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From plots and treasons Heaven preserve my years, But save me most from my petitioners. Unsatiate as the barren womb or grave God cannot grant so much as they can crave.
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Ever a glutton, at another's cost, But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
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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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If we from wealth to poverty descend, Want gives to know the flatterer from the friend.
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New vows to plight, and plighted vows to break.
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So over violent, or over civil that every man with him was God or Devil.
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As when the dove returning bore the mark Of earth restored to the long labouring ark The relics of mankind, secure at rest, Oped every window to receive the guest, And the fair bearer of the message bless'd.
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The thought of being nothing after death is a burden insupportable to a virtuous man.
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