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not judging truth to be in nature better than falsehood, but setting a value upon both according to interest.
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
Better
Setting
Judging
Value
Interest
Values
Upon
Falsehood
Nature
Settings
Truth
According
More quotes by John Dryden
The propriety of thoughts and words, which are the hidden beauties of a play, are but confusedly judged in the vehemence of action.
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Secret guilt is by silence revealed.
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For your ignorance is the mother of your devotion to me.
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The bravest men are subject most to chance.
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The soft complaining flute, In dying notes, discovers The woes of hopeless lovers.
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The true Amphitryon is the Amphitryon where we dine.
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Whatever is, is in its causes just.
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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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I am resolved to grow fat and look young till forty, and then slip out of the world with the first wrinkle and the reputation of five-and-twenty.
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Time glides with undiscover'd haste The future but a length behind the past.
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Men's virtues I have commended as freely as I have taxed their crimes.
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A knock-down argument 'tis but a word and a blow.
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Plots, true or false, are necessary things, To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.
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Zeal, the blind conductor of the will.
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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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Truth is the object of our understanding, as good is of our will and the understanding can no more be delighted with a lie than the will can choose an apparent evil.
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But when to sin our biased nature leans, The careful Devil is still at hand with means And providently pimps for ill desires.
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Long pains, with use of bearing, are half eased.
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…So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky
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When bounteous autumn rears her head, he joys to pull the ripened pear.
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