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He trudged along unknowing what he sought, And whistled as he went, for want of thought.

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
Whistled
Unknowing
Sought
Along
Went
Thought

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Hushed as midnight silence.
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Revealed religion first informed thy sight, and reason saw not till faith sprung to light.
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We first make our habits, and then our habits make us.
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Much malice mingled with a little wit Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ.
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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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They live too long who happiness outlive.
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Like pilgrims to th' appointed place we tend The World's an Inn, and Death the journey's end.
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An horrible stillness first invades our ear, And in that silence we the tempest fear.
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For every inch that is not fool, is rogue.
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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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All habits gather by unseen degrees.
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So poetry, which is in Oxford made An art, in London only is a trade.
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Discover the opinion of your enemies, which is commonly the truest for they will give you no quarter, and allow nothing to complaisance.
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Railing and praising were his usual themes and both showed his judgment in extremes. Either over violent or over civil, so everyone to him was either god or devil.
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