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Love is a child that talks in broken language, yet then he speaks most plain.

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
Children
Cupid
Love
Talks
Plain
Speaks
Broken
Child
Language
Speak

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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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Fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods, and wing their hasty flight to happier lands.
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A narrow mind begets obstinacy we do not easily believe what we cannot see.
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Ever a glutton, at another's cost, But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
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Zeal, the blind conductor of the will.
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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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[T]he Famous Rules which the French call, Des Trois Unitez , or, The Three Unities, which ought to be observ'd in every Regular Play namely, of Time, Place, and Action.
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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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Trust reposed in noble natures obliges them the more.
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Either be wholly slaves or wholly free.
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When bounteous autumn rears her head, he joys to pull the ripened pear.
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Every age has a kind of universal genius, which inclines those that live in it to some particular studies.
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Plots, true or false, are necessary things, To raise up commonwealths and ruin kings.
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Forgiveness to the injured does belong but they ne'er pardon who have done wrong.
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For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss.
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Welcome, thou kind deceiver! Thou best of thieves who, with an easy key, Dost open life, and, unperceived by us, Even steal us from ourselves.
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By viewing nature, nature's handmaid art, Makes mighty things from small beginnings grow: Thus fishes first to shipping did impart, Their tail the rudder, and their head the prow.
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The scum that rises upmost, when the nation boils.
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He trudged along unknowing what he sought, And whistled as he went, for want of thought.
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Repentance is but want of power to sin.
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