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A happy genius is the gift of nature.
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
Gift
Genius
Happy
Nature
More quotes by John Dryden
Virtue in distress, and vice in triumph make atheists of mankind.
John Dryden
The secret pleasure of a generous act Is the great mind's great bribe.
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He trudged along unknowing what he sought, And whistled as he went, for want of thought.
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A good conscience is a port which is landlocked on every side, where no winds can possibly invade. There a man may not only see his own image, but that of his Maker, clearly reflected from the undisturbed waters.
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He was exhaled his great Creator drew His spirit, as the sun the morning dew.
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Whistling to keep myself from being afraid.
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The greater part performed achieves the less.
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Good sense and good nature are never separated and good nature is the product of right reason.
John Dryden
Who climbs the grammar-tree, distinctly knows Where noun, and verb, and participle grows.
John Dryden
If you have lived, take thankfully the past. Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.
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Better one suffer than a nation grieve.
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Love taught him shame, and shame with love at strife Soon taught the sweet civilities of life.
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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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Bacchus ever fair and young, Drinking joys did first ordain. Bachus's blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure, Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure- Sweet is pleasure after pain.
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When I consider life, it is all a cheat. Yet fooled with hope, people favor this deceit.
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An horrible stillness first invades our ear, And in that silence we the tempest fear.
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A brave man scorns to quarrel once a day Like Hectors in at every petty fray.
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Forgiveness to the injured does belong but they ne'er pardon who have done wrong.
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Our souls sit close and silently within, And their own web from their own entrails spin And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such, That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.
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None but the brave deserve the fair.
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