Quote

For Hell and the foul fiend that rules God's everlasting fiery jails (Devised by rogues, dreaded by fools), With his grim, grisly dog that keeps the door, Are senseless stories, idle tales, Dreams, whimseys, and no more.

John Wilmot

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John Wilmot
Age: 33 †
Born: 1647
Born: April 1
Died: 1680
Died: July 26
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Ditchley Park
John Wilmot
Earl of Rochester
Dreams
Fools
Devised
Doors
Jail
Rogues
Hell
Tales
Senseless
Dream
Keeps
Fiery
Stories
Dog
Grim
Grisly
Rules
Foul
Fiend
Door
Everlasting
Jails
Fool
Idle
Dreaded

More quotes by John Wilmot

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Whenever you preach, be sure that you lift the Saviour high and lay the sinner low.
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The theatre is my drug. And my illness is so far advanced that my physic must be of the highest quality.
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All men would be cowards if they could.
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I have to speak my mind. Because what is in my mind is always more interesting than what is happening in the world outside my mind.
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Custom does often reason overrule.
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I'd be a dog, a monkey, or a bear, or anything but that vain animal who is so proud of being rational.
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The clog of all pleasure, the luggage of life, is the best can be said for a very good wife.
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God bless our good and gracious King, Whose promise none relies on Who never said a foolish thing, Nor ever did a wise one.
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All monarchs I hate, and the thrones they sit on, From the hector of France to the cully of Britain.
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Farewell, woman! I intend Henceforth every night to sit With my lewd, well-natured friend, Drinking to engender wit.
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It is a very good world to live in, To lend or to spend, or to live in but to beg or to borrow, or to get a man's own, It is the very worst world that ever was known.
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Angels listen when she speaks She's my delight, all mankind's wonder But my jealous heart would break Should we live one day asunder.
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Man differs more from man than man from beast
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I shall never forgive you for teaching me how to love life.
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Love, the most generous passion of the mind The softest refuge innocence can find
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Born to myself, I like myself alone.
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Envy is a passion so full of cowardice and shame that nobody ever had the confidence to own it.
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Before I married, I had three theories about raising children and no children. Now, I have three children and no theories.
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Nothing suits worse with vice than want of sense
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