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Not sharp revenge, nor hell itself can find, A fiercer torment than a guilty mind, Which day and night doth dreadfully accuse, Condemns the wretch, and still the charge renews.
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
Mind
Charge
Dreadfully
Revenge
Wretch
Guilty
Condemns
Hell
Accuse
Night
Remorse
Stills
Doth
Still
Torment
Fiercer
Find
Sharp
Renews
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Whatever is, is in its causes just.
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Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.
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Whistling to keep myself from being afraid.
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not judging truth to be in nature better than falsehood, but setting a value upon both according to interest.
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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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Arts and sciences in one and the same century have arrived at great perfection and no wonder, since every age has a kind of universal genius, which inclines those that live in it to some particular studies the work then, being pushed on by many hands, must go forward.
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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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Jealousy's a proof of love, But 'tis a weak and unavailing medicine It puts out the disease and makes it show, But has no power to cure.
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If the faults of men in orders are only to be judged among themselves, they are all in some sort parties for, since they say the honour of their order is concerned in every member of it, how can we be sure that they will be impartial judges?
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Be fair, or foul, or rain, or shine, The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not heaven itself upon the past has power But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
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Silence in times of suffering is the best.
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Wit will shine Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line.
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Love is a child that talks in broken language, yet then he speaks most plain.
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Griefs assured are felt before they come.
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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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Here lies my wife: here let her lie! Now she's at rest, and so am I.
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