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Virtue without success is a fair picture shown by an ill light but lucky men are favorites of heaven all own the chief, when fortune owns the cause.

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
Light
Fortune
Owns
Without
Picture
Shown
Men
Lucky
Chief
Cause
Chiefs
Virtue
Ill
Causes
Fairs
Heaven
Fair
Success
Luck
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For what can power give more than food and drink, To live at ease, and not be bound to think?
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Heroic poetry has ever been esteemed the greatest work of human nature.
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Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes.
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For secrets are edged tools, And must be kept from children and from fools.
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My whole life Has been a golden dream of love and friendship.
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A happy genius is the gift of nature.
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I strongly wish for what I faintly hope like the daydreams of melancholy men, I think and think in things impossible, yet love to wander in that golden maze.
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If passion rules, how weak does reason prove!
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A narrow mind begets obstinacy we do not easily believe what we cannot see.
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Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck.
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Zeal, the blind conductor of the will.
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We find few historians who have been diligent enough in their search for truth it is their common method to take on trust what they help distribute to the public by which means a falsehood once received from a famed writer becomes traditional to posterity.
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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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When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
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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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When I consider life, it is all a cheat. Yet fooled with hope, people favor this deceit.
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Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.
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Youth should watch joys and shoot them as they fly.
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Of all the tyrannies on human kind the worst is that which persecutes the mind.
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Time glides with undiscover'd haste The future but a length behind the past.
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