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Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait.
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
Wait
Waiting
Happy
Cheerfulness
Fortune
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For every inch that is not fool, is rogue.
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Learn to write well, or not to write at all.
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Boldness is a mask for fear, however great.
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Heroic poetry has ever been esteemed the greatest work of human nature.
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Virgil, above all poets, had a stock which I may call almost inexhaustible, of figurative, elegant, and sounding words.
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Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck.
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So poetry, which is in Oxford made An art, in London only is a trade.
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A woman's counsel brought us first to woe, And made her man his paradise forego, Where at heart's ease he liv'd and might have been As free from sorrow as he was from sin.
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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.
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He who would search for pearls must dive below.
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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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The Fates but only spin the coarser clue The finest of the wool is left for you.
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Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease.
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Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.
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For all have not the gift of martyrdom.
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Griefs assured are felt before they come.
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Confidence is the feeling we have before knowing all the facts
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When a man's life is under debate, The judge can ne'er too long deliberate.
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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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