Quote

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

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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
Enemies
Discover
Allow
Enemy
Complaisance
Opinion
Commonly
Give
Quarter
Nothing
Truest
Giving
Quarters

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Desire of power, on earth a vicious weed, Yet, sprung from high, is of celestial seed: In God 'tisglory and when men aspire, 'Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire.
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An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.
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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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All habits gather by unseen degrees.
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The longest tyranny that ever sway'd Was that wherein our ancestors betray'd Their free-born reason to the Stagirite [Aristotle], And made his torch their universal light. So truth, while only one suppli'd the state, Grew scarce, and dear, and yet sophisticate.
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Thou spring'st a leak already in thy crown, A flaw is in thy ill-bak'd vessel found 'Tis hollow, and returns a jarring sound, Yet thy moist clay is pliant to command, Unwrought, and easy to the potter's hand: Now take the mould now bend thy mind to feel The first sharp motions of the forming wheel.
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Time glides with undiscover'd haste The future but a length behind the past.
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Maintain your post: That's all the fame you need For 'tis impossible you should proceed.
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Love works a different way in different minds, the fool it enlightens and the wise it blinds.
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How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
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A knock-down argument 'tis but a word and a blow.
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How happy the lover, How easy his chain, How pleasing his pain, How sweet to discover He sighs not in vain.
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Men's virtues I have commended as freely as I have taxed their crimes.
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He wants worth who dares not praise a foe.
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Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.
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For thee, sweet month the groves green liveries wear. If not the first, the fairest of the year For thee the Graces lead the dancing hours, And Nature's ready pencil paints the flowers. When thy short reign is past, the feverish sun The sultry tropic fears, and moves more slowly on.
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Better one suffer than a nation grieve.
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They, who would combat general authority with particular opinion, must first establish themselves a reputation of understanding better than other men.
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All empire is no more than power in trust.
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Death in itself is nothing but we fear to be we know not what, we know not where.
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