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He made all countries where he came his own.

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
Countries
Came
Country
Made

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For what can power give more than food and drink, To live at ease, and not be bound to think?
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Wit will shine Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line.
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Sweet is pleasure after pain.
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Imagination in a poet is a faculty so wild and lawless that, like a high ranging spaniel, it must have clogs tied to it, lest it outrun the judgment. The great easiness of blank verse renders the poet too luxuriant. He is tempted to say many things which might better be omitted, or, at least shut up in fewer words.
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If you have lived, take thankfully the past. Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.
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The longest tyranny that ever sway'd Was that wherein our ancestors betray'd Their free-born reason to the Stagirite [Aristotle], And made his torch their universal light. So truth, while only one suppli'd the state, Grew scarce, and dear, and yet sophisticate.
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Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence.
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Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more Fate was not mine, nor am I Fate's: Souls know no conquerors.
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Of all the tyrannies on human kind the worst is that which persecutes the mind.
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When bounteous autumn rears her head, he joys to pull the ripened pear.
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For every inch that is not fool, is rogue.
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Farewell, too little, and too lately known, Whom I began to think and call my own.
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For age but tastes of pleasures youth devours.
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An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.
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None are so busy as the fool and the knave.
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Nature meant me A wife, a silly, harmless, household dove, Fond without art, and kind without deceit.
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The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes And gaping mouth, that testified surprise.
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For your ignorance is the mother of your devotion to me.
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Even victors are by victories undone.
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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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