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Secret guilt by silence is betrayed.
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
Silence
Secret
Betrayed
Guilt
More quotes by John Dryden
Revealed religion first informed thy sight, and reason saw not till faith sprung to light.
John Dryden
Repentance is but want of power to sin.
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When I consider life, it is all a cheat. Yet fooled with hope, people favor this deceit.
John Dryden
For danger levels man and brute And all are fellows in their need.
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Good Heaven, whose darling attribute we find is boundless grace, and mercy to mankind, abhors the cruel.
John Dryden
No government has ever been, or can ever be, wherein time-servers and blockheads will not be uppermost.
John Dryden
And after hearing what our Church can say, If still our reason runs another way, That private reason 'tis more just to curb, Than by disputes the public peace disturb For points obscure are of small use to learn, But common quiet is mankind's concern.
John Dryden
Trust reposed in noble natures obliges them the more.
John Dryden
A happy genius is the gift of nature.
John Dryden
The wretched have no friends.
John Dryden
Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures. War, he sung, is toil and trouble Honour but an empty bubble Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying. If all the world be worth the winning, Think, oh think it worth enjoying: Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee.
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My love's a noble madness.
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How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
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Learn to write well, or not to write at all.
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Pleasure never comes sincere to man but lent by heaven upon hard usury.
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We must beat the iron while it is hot, but we may polish it at leisure.
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New vows to plight, and plighted vows to break.
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When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit Trust on, and think tomorrow will repay. Tomorrow's falser than the former day.
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Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.
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Among our crimes oblivion may be set.
John Dryden