Quote

If by the people you understand the multitude, the hoi polloi, 'tis no matter what they think they are sometimes in the right, sometimes in the wrong their judgment is a mere lottery.

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
Thinking
Judgment
People
Understanding
Wrong
Understand
Matter
Lottery
Right
Multitude
Sometimes
Multitudes
Think
Mere

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Democracy is essentially anti-authoritarian--that is, it not only demands the right but imposes the responsibility of thinking for ourselves.
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The people have a right supreme To make their kings, for Kings are made for them. All Empire is no more than Pow'r in Trust, Which when resum'd, can be no longer just. Successionm for the general good design'd, In its own wrong a Nation cannot bind.
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Anger will never disappear so long as thoughts of resentment are cherished in the mind. Anger will disappear just as soon as thoughts of resentment are forgotten.
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My right eye itches, some good luck is near.
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And that one hunting, which the Devil design'd For one fair female, lost him half the kind.
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We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.
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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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Good sense and good nature are never separated and good nature is the product of right reason.
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Griefs assured are felt before they come.
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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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So the false spider, when her nets are spread, deep ambushed in her silent den does lie.
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If all the world be worth thy winning. / Think, oh think it worth enjoying: / Lovely Thaïs sits beside thee, / Take the good the gods provide thee.
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The trumpet's loud clangor Excites us to arms.
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Forgiveness to the injured does belong but they ne'er pardon who have done wrong.
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Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait.
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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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Ever a glutton, at another's cost, But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
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Thou spring'st a leak already in thy crown, A flaw is in thy ill-bak'd vessel found 'Tis hollow, and returns a jarring sound, Yet thy moist clay is pliant to command, Unwrought, and easy to the potter's hand: Now take the mould now bend thy mind to feel The first sharp motions of the forming wheel.
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