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For age but tastes of pleasures youth devours.
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
Age
Devours
Tastes
Pleasures
Taste
Youth
Pleasure
More quotes by John Dryden
Secret guilt by silence is betrayed.
John Dryden
If all the world be worth thy winning. / Think, oh think it worth enjoying: / Lovely Thaïs sits beside thee, / Take the good the gods provide thee.
John Dryden
Ever a glutton, at another's cost, But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
John Dryden
A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth.
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A brave man scorns to quarrel once a day Like Hectors in at every petty fray.
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The winds are out of breath.
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not judging truth to be in nature better than falsehood, but setting a value upon both according to interest.
John Dryden
Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, And view the ocean leaning on the sky: From thence our rolling Neighbours we shall know, And on the Lunar world securely pry.
John Dryden
Railing in other men may be a crime, But ought to pass for mere instinct in him: Instinct he follows and no further knows, For to write verse with him is to transprose.
John Dryden
Lucky men are favorites of Heaven.
John Dryden
With how much ease believe we what we wish!
John Dryden
The brave man seeks not popular applause, Nor, overpower'd with arms, deserts his cause Unsham'd, though foil'd, he does the best he can, Force is of brutes, but honor is of man.
John Dryden
And after hearing what our Church can say, If still our reason runs another way, That private reason 'tis more just to curb, Than by disputes the public peace disturb For points obscure are of small use to learn, But common quiet is mankind's concern.
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What I have left is from my native spring I've still a heart that swells, in scorn of fate, And lifts me to my banks.
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For secrets are edged tools, And must be kept from children and from fools.
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Virtue in distress, and vice in triumph make atheists of mankind.
John Dryden
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 perverseness of my fate is such that he's not mine because he's mine too much.
John Dryden
Fortune's unjust she ruins oft the brave, and him who should be victor, makes the slave.
John Dryden
Humility and resignation are our prime virtues.
John Dryden