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Heroic poetry has ever been esteemed the greatest work of human 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
Human
Humans
Work
Esteemed
Heroic
Poetry
Greatest
Nature
Ever

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Seas are the fields of combat for the winds but when they sweep along some flowery coast, their wings move mildly, and their rage is lost.
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Imagination in a poet is a faculty so wild and lawless that, like a high ranging spaniel, it must have clogs tied to it, lest it outrun the judgment. The great easiness of blank verse renders the poet too luxuriant. He is tempted to say many things which might better be omitted, or, at least shut up in fewer words.
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Among our crimes oblivion may be set.
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not judging truth to be in nature better than falsehood, but setting a value upon both according to interest.
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The people have a right supreme To make their kings, for Kings are made for them. All Empire is no more than Pow'r in Trust, Which when resum'd, can be no longer just. Successionm for the general good design'd, In its own wrong a Nation cannot bind.
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An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.
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What passion cannot music raise and quell!
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For all have not the gift of martyrdom.
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A happy genius is the gift of nature.
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Fool, not to know that love endures no tie, And Jove but laughs at lovers' perjury.
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From plots and treasons Heaven preserve my years, But save me most from my petitioners. Unsatiate as the barren womb or grave God cannot grant so much as they can crave.
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The blushing beauties of a modest maid.
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Virtue in distress, and vice in triumph make atheists of mankind.
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So poetry, which is in Oxford made An art, in London only is a trade.
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Whistling to keep myself from being afraid.
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The elephant is never won by anger nor must that man who would reclaim a lion take him by the teeth.
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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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Virgil, above all poets, had a stock which I may call almost inexhaustible, of figurative, elegant, and sounding words.
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