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For every inch that is not fool, is rogue.
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
Inches
Fool
Character
Every
Rogue
Rogues
Inch
More quotes by John Dryden
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.
John Dryden
Ev'n wit's a burthen, when it talks too long.
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Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes... Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.
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If one must be rejected, one succeed, make him my lord within whose faithful breast is fixed my image, and who loves me best.
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The good we have enjoyed from Heaven's free will, and shall we murmur to endure the ill?
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Better one suffer than a nation grieve.
John Dryden
None but the brave deserve the fair.
John Dryden
He who would pry behind the scenes oft sees a counterfeit.
John Dryden
Men are but children of a larger growth, Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain.
John Dryden
And that one hunting, which the Devil design'd For one fair female, lost him half the kind.
John Dryden
Ever a glutton, at another's cost, But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
John Dryden
Discover the opinion of your enemies, which is commonly the truest for they will give you no quarter, and allow nothing to complaisance.
John Dryden
We must beat the iron while it is hot, but we may polish it at leisure.
John Dryden
An horrible stillness first invades our ear, And in that silence we the tempest fear.
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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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Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait.
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Love reckons hours for months, and days for years and every little absence is an age.
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A farce is that in poetry which grotesque (caricature) is in painting. The persons and actions of a farce are all unnatural, and the manners false, that is, inconsistent with the characters of mankind and grotesque painting is the just resemblance of this.
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Whatever is, is in its causes just.
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For all have not the gift of martyrdom.
John Dryden