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For secrets are edged tools, And must be kept from children and from fools.
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
Secrets
Kept
Tools
Fool
Secret
Must
Children
Edged
Fools
More quotes by John Dryden
We must beat the iron while it is hot, but we may polish it at leisure.
John Dryden
When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
John Dryden
But far more numerous was the herd of such, Who think too little, and who talk too much.
John Dryden
As one that neither seeks, nor shuns his foe.
John Dryden
For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss.
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For all the happiness mankind can gain Is not in pleasure, but in rest from pain.
John Dryden
Long pains, with use of bearing, are half eased.
John Dryden
When we view elevated ideas of Nature, the result of that view is admiration, which is always the cause of pleasure.
John Dryden
The propriety of thoughts and words, which are the hidden beauties of a play, are but confusedly judged in the vehemence of action.
John Dryden
But how can finite grasp Infinity?
John Dryden
An hour will come, with pleasure to relate Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.
John Dryden
Youth should watch joys and shoot them as they fly.
John Dryden
But when to sin our biased nature leans, The careful Devil is still at hand with means And providently pimps for ill desires.
John Dryden
Boldness is a mask for fear, however great.
John Dryden
The scum that rises upmost, when the nation boils.
John Dryden
One cannot say he wanted wit, but rather that he was frugal of it.
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I am resolved to grow fat and look young till forty, and then slip out of the world with the first wrinkle and the reputation of five-and-twenty.
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He wants worth who dares not praise a foe.
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Let grace and goodness be the principal loadstone of thy affections. For love which hath ends, will have an end whereas that which is founded on true virtue, will always continue.
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For thee, sweet month the groves green liveries wear. If not the first, the fairest of the year For thee the Graces lead the dancing hours, And Nature's ready pencil paints the flowers. When thy short reign is past, the feverish sun The sultry tropic fears, and moves more slowly on.
John Dryden