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Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.

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
Ends
Mournful
Kind
Woes
Shuts
Woe
Grave
Graves
Scene
Death

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For danger levels man and brute And all are fellows in their need.
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And after hearing what our Church can say, If still our reason runs another way, That private reason 'tis more just to curb, Than by disputes the public peace disturb For points obscure are of small use to learn, But common quiet is mankind's concern.
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I feel my sinews slackened with the fright, and a cold sweat trills down all over my limbs, as if I were dissolving into water.
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Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave deserves the fair.
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Fortune's unjust she ruins oft the brave, and him who should be victor, makes the slave.
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A knock-down argument 'tis but a word and a blow.
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Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.
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Dead men tell no tales.
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Mere poets are sottish as mere drunkards are, who live in a continual mist, without seeing or judging anything clearly. A man should be learned in several sciences, and should have a reasonable, philosophical and in some measure a mathematical head, to be a complete and excellent poet.
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All empire is no more than power in trust.
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Faith is to believe what you do not yet see: the reward for this faith is to see what you believe. Thus all below is strength, and all above is grace.
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Second thoughts, they say, are best.
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When bounteous autumn rears her head, he joys to pull the ripened pear.
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Hushed as midnight silence.
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War is a trade of kings.
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Kings fight for empires, madmen for applause.
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Desire of power, on earth a vicious weed, Yet, sprung from high, is of celestial seed: In God 'tisglory and when men aspire, 'Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire.
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He who would pry behind the scenes oft sees a counterfeit.
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A coward is the kindest animal 'Tis the most forgiving creature in a fight.
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Time glides with undiscover'd haste The future but a length behind the past.
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