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I learn to pity woes so like my own.

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
Woes
Woe
Pity
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What I have left is from my native spring I've still a heart that swells, in scorn of fate, And lifts me to my banks.
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How blessed is he, who leads a country life, Unvex'd with anxious cares, and void of strife! Who studying peace, and shunning civil rage, Enjoy'd his youth, and now enjoys his age: All who deserve his love, he makes his own And, to be lov'd himself, needs only to be known.
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Hushed as midnight silence.
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The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes And gaping mouth, that testified surprise.
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Good sense and good nature are never separated and good nature is the product of right reason.
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Our souls sit close and silently within, And their own web from their own entrails spin And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.
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