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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
Bacchus
Treasure
Sweet
Rich
Pleasure
Pain

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A good conscience is a port which is landlocked on every side, where no winds can possibly invade. There a man may not only see his own image, but that of his Maker, clearly reflected from the undisturbed waters.
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Since every man who lives is born to die, And none can boast sincere felicity, With equal mind, what happens, let us bear, Nor joy nor grieve too much for things beyond our care. Like pilgrims to the' appointed place we tend The world's an inn, and death the journey's end.
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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.
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When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
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And after hearing what our Church can say, If still our reason runs another way, That private reason 'tis more just to curb, Than by disputes the public peace disturb For points obscure are of small use to learn, But common quiet is mankind's concern.
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A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth.
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Interest makes all seem reason that leads to it.
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To so perverse a sex all grace is vain.
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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 am devilishly afraid, that's certain but ... I'll sing, that I may seem valiant.
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For all have not the gift of martyrdom.
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He made all countries where he came his own.
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The soft complaining flute, In dying notes, discovers The woes of hopeless lovers.
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