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Every language is so full of its own proprieties that what is beautiful in one is often barbarous, nay, sometimes nonsense, in another.
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
Nonsense
Full
Language
Often
Another
Beautiful
Sometimes
Barbarous
Every
Propriety
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Fool, not to know that love endures no tie, And Jove but laughs at lovers' perjury.
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Griefs assured are felt before they come.
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Railing in other men may be a crime, But ought to pass for mere instinct in him: Instinct he follows and no further knows, For to write verse with him is to transprose.
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I feel my sinews slackened with the fright, and a cold sweat trills down all over my limbs, as if I were dissolving into water.
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Kings fight for empires, madmen for applause.
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Much malice mingled with a little wit Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ.
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One cannot say he wanted wit, but rather that he was frugal of it.
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He wants worth who dares not praise a foe.
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Time glides with undiscover'd haste The future but a length behind the past.
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Anger will never disappear so long as thoughts of resentment are cherished in the mind. Anger will disappear just as soon as thoughts of resentment are forgotten.
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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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All habits gather by unseen degrees.
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Secret guilt by silence is betrayed.
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If all the world be worth thy winning. / Think, oh think it worth enjoying: / Lovely Thaïs sits beside thee, / Take the good the gods provide thee.
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More liberty begets desire of more The hunger still increases with the store
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