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Light sufferings give us leisure to complain.
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
Sufferings
Complain
Leisure
Complaining
Suffering
Light
Give
Giving
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For truth has such a face and such a mien, as to be loved needs only to be seen.
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My whole life Has been a golden dream of love and friendship.
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No government has ever been, or can ever be, wherein time-servers and blockheads will not be uppermost.
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As when the dove returning bore the mark Of earth restored to the long labouring ark The relics of mankind, secure at rest, Oped every window to receive the guest, And the fair bearer of the message bless'd.
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I saw myself the lambent easy light Gild the brown horror, and dispel the night.
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Either be wholly slaves or wholly free.
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For secrets are edged tools, And must be kept from children and from fools.
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Love reckons hours for months, and days for years and every little absence is an age.
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Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.
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Prodigious actions may as well be done, by weaver's issue, as the prince's son.
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Murder may pass unpunishd for a time, But tardy justice will oertake the crime.
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As one that neither seeks, nor shuns his foe.
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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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Plots, true or false, are necessary things, To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.
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