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Dreams are but interludes that fancy makes... Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind.
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
Sometimes
Forward
Long
Dreams
Mind
Behinds
Interludes
Things
Behind
Rush
Brain
Cast
Makes
Fancy
Dream
Casts
Come
Forgotten
More quotes by John Dryden
Trust on and think To-morrow will repay To-morrow's falser than the former day Lies worse and while it says, we shall be blest With some new Joys, cuts off what we possest.
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Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures. War, he sung, is toil and trouble Honour but an empty bubble Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying. If all the world be worth the winning, Think, oh think it worth enjoying: Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee.
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He wants worth who dares not praise a foe.
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I trade both with the living and the dead, for the enrichment of our native language.
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Never was patriot yet, but was a fool.
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…So when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And Music shall untune the sky
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Want is a bitter and a hateful good, Because its virtues are not understood Yet many things, impossible to thought, Have been by need to full perfection brought. The daring of the soul proceeds from thence, Sharpness of wit, and active diligence Prudence at once, and fortitude it gives And, if in patience taken, mends our lives.
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Good Heaven, whose darling attribute we find is boundless grace, and mercy to mankind, abhors the cruel.
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Beware the fury of a patient man.
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Long pains, with use of bearing, are half eased.
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Pleasure never comes sincere to man but lent by heaven upon hard usury.
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The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes And gaping mouth, that testified surprise.
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He was exhaled his great Creator drew His spirit, as the sun the morning dew.
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Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait.
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For danger levels man and brute And all are fellows in their need.
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The end of satire is the amendment of vices by correction and he who writes honestly is no more an enemy to the offender than the physician to the patient when he prescribes harsh remedies.
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If passion rules, how weak does reason prove!
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For your ignorance is the mother of your devotion to me.
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My heart's so full of joy, That I shall do some wild extravagance Of love in public and the foolish world, Which knows not tenderness, will think me mad.
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Drinking is the soldier's pleasure.
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