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One cannot say he wanted wit, but rather that he was frugal of it.

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
Frugal
Wit
Rather
Cannot
Wanted

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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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The brave man seeks not popular applause, Nor, overpower'd with arms, deserts his cause Unsham'd, though foil'd, he does the best he can, Force is of brutes, but honor is of man.
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For granting we have sinned, and that the offence Of man is made against Omnipotence, Some price that bears proportion must be paid, And infinite with infinite be weighed.
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None are so busy as the fool and the knave.
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The gods, (if gods to goodness are inclined If acts of mercy touch their heavenly mind), And, more than all the gods, your generous heart, Conscious of worth, requite its own desert!
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Dancing is the poetry of the foot.
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Restless at home, and ever prone to range.
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What passion cannot music raise and quell!
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An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.
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Love is love's reward.
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I'm a little wounded, but I am not slain I will lay me down to bleed a while. Then I'll rise and fight again.
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Second thoughts, they say, are best.
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Of all the tyrannies on human kind the worst is that which persecutes the mind.
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Secret guilt is by silence revealed.
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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.
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Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.
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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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For all have not the gift of martyrdom.
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Virtue in distress, and vice in triumph make atheists of mankind.
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Bets at first were fool-traps, where the wise like spiders lay in ambush for the flies.
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