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Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck.
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
Wrecks
Rhyme
Thou
Rock
Rocks
Art
Wreck
More quotes by John Dryden
The winds that never moderation knew, Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge Their straighten'd lungs or conscious of their charge.
John Dryden
Good sense and good nature are never separated and good nature is the product of right reason.
John Dryden
[T]he Famous Rules which the French call, Des Trois Unitez , or, The Three Unities, which ought to be observ'd in every Regular Play namely, of Time, Place, and Action.
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Silence in times of suffering is the best.
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Every language is so full of its own proprieties that what is beautiful in one is often barbarous, nay, sometimes nonsense, in another.
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The Fates but only spin the coarser clue The finest of the wool is left for you.
John Dryden
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure.
John Dryden
An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.
John Dryden
Virtue without success is a fair picture shown by an ill light but lucky men are favorites of heaven all own the chief, when fortune owns the cause.
John Dryden
Reason to rule, mercy to forgive: The first is law, the last prerogative. Life is an adventure in forgiveness.
John Dryden
New vows to plight, and plighted vows to break.
John Dryden
Imitators are but a servile kind of cattle.
John Dryden
The gods, (if gods to goodness are inclined If acts of mercy touch their heavenly mind), And, more than all the gods, your generous heart, Conscious of worth, requite its own desert!
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Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit, The power of beauty I remember yet.
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He who would search for pearls must dive below.
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Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.
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The scum that rises upmost, when the nation boils.
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If one must be rejected, one succeed, make him my lord within whose faithful breast is fixed my image, and who loves me best.
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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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Light sufferings give us leisure to complain.
John Dryden