Quote

A woman's counsel brought us first to woe, And made her man his paradise forego, Where at heart's ease he liv'd and might have been As free from sorrow as he was from sin.

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
Men
Free
Forego
Woman
Counsel
Women
Woe
Might
Paradise
Firsts
Ease
First
Brought
Heart
Sorrow
Made
Sin

More quotes by John Dryden

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Since every man who lives is born to die, And none can boast sincere felicity, With equal mind, what happens, let us bear, Nor joy nor grieve too much for things beyond our care. Like pilgrims to the' appointed place we tend The world's an inn, and death the journey's end.
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If by the people you understand the multitude, the hoi polloi, 'tis no matter what they think they are sometimes in the right, sometimes in the wrong their judgment is a mere lottery.
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[T]he Famous Rules which the French call, Des Trois Unitez , or, The Three Unities, which ought to be observ'd in every Regular Play namely, of Time, Place, and Action.
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When Misfortune is asleep, let no one wake her.
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War is a trade of kings.
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Beauty is nothing else but a just accord and mutual harmony of the members, animated by a healthful constitution.
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The Jews, a headstrong, moody, murmuring race.
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Anger will never disappear so long as thoughts of resentment are cherished in the mind. Anger will disappear just as soon as thoughts of resentment are forgotten.
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Reason to rule, mercy to forgive: The first is law, the last prerogative. Life is an adventure in forgiveness.
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Love is love's reward.
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A brave man scorns to quarrel once a day Like Hectors in at every petty fray.
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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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They first condemn that first advised the ill.
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I learn to pity woes so like my own.
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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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There is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know.
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Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck.
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She feared no danger, for she knew no sin.
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He is a perpetual fountain of good sense.
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For secrets are edged tools, And must be kept from children and from fools.
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