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Tis hard to find God, but to comprehend Him, as He is, is labour without end.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Comprehend
Labour
God
Ends
Find
Without
Hard

More quotes by Robert Herrick

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Hast thou attempted greatnesse? Then go on Back-turning slackens resolution.
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Whatever comes, let's be content withal: Among God's blessings there is no one small.
Robert Herrick
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Gather ye rosebuds, while ye may.
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A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.
Robert Herrick
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And as this round (ring) is nowhere found to flaw, or else to sever. So let our love as endless prove and pure as gold forever.
Robert Herrick
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When words we want, love teacheth to indite And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.
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Feed him ye must, whose food fills you. And that this pleasure is like raine, Not sent ye for to drowne your paine, But for to make it spring againe.
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When one is past, another care we have Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave.
Robert Herrick
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Here a little child I stand, Heaving up my either hand Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, for a benison to fall on our meat, and on us all. Amen.
Robert Herrick
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Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.
Robert Herrick
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The first act's doubtful, but we say, it is the last commends the play.
Robert Herrick
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When the artless doctor sees No one hope, but of his fees, And his skill runs on the lees Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When his potion and his pill, Has, or none, or little skill, Meet for nothing, but to kill Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
Robert Herrick
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He who has suffered shipwreck, fears to sail Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.
Robert Herrick
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Things are evermore sincere / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.
Robert Herrick
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Happy is the bride that the sun shines on.
Robert Herrick
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Let wealth come in by comely thrift, And not by any sordid shift 'T is haste Makes waste Extremes have still their fault. Who gripes too hard the dry and slipp'ry sand, Holds none at all, or little, in his hand.
Robert Herrick
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Tis not the food, but the content, That makes the table's merriment.
Robert Herrick
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Tears are the noble language of the eye.
Robert Herrick
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So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade All love, all liking, all delight Lies drowned with us in endless night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying.
Robert Herrick
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Praise they that will times past, I joy to see My selfe now live: this age best pleaseth mee.
Robert Herrick