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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
Makes
Fancy
Dream
Casts
Come
Forgotten
Sometimes
Forward
Long
Dreams
Mind
Behinds
Interludes
Things
Behind
Rush
Brain
Cast
More quotes by John Dryden
None, none descends into himself, to find The secret imperfections of his mind: But every one is eagle-ey'd to see Another's faults, and his deformity.
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As when the dove returning bore the mark Of earth restored to the long labouring ark The relics of mankind, secure at rest, Oped every window to receive the guest, And the fair bearer of the message bless'd.
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We must beat the iron while it is hot, but we may polish it at leisure.
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Whistling to keep myself from being afraid.
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What passion cannot music raise and quell!
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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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Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace.
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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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Love is love's reward.
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Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence.
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Restless at home, and ever prone to range.
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Even victors are by victories undone.
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Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease.
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The soft complaining flute, In dying notes, discovers The woes of hopeless lovers.
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Of all the tyrannies on human kind the worst is that which persecutes the mind.
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Death ends our woes, and the kind grave shuts up the mournful scene.
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The good we have enjoyed from Heaven's free will, and shall we murmur to endure the ill?
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How blessed is he, who leads a country life, Unvex'd with anxious cares, and void of strife! Who studying peace, and shunning civil rage, Enjoy'd his youth, and now enjoys his age: All who deserve his love, he makes his own And, to be lov'd himself, needs only to be known.
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Imitation pleases, because it affords matter for inquiring into the truth or falsehood of imitation, by comparing its likeness or unlikeness with the original.
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Love either finds equality or makes it.
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