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When words we want, love teacheth to indite And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.

Robert Herrick

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Robert Herrick
Age: 83 †
Born: 1591
Born: August 24
Died: 1674
Died: October 12
Poet
Writer
London
England
Blush
Words
Speak
Write
Writing
Love
Bids

More quotes by Robert Herrick

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Tears are the noble language of the eye.
Robert Herrick
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O thou, the drink of gods and angels! Wine
Robert Herrick
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Bid me to live, and I will liveThy Protestant to be,Or bid me love, and I will giveA loving heart to thee.
Robert Herrick
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In ways to greatness think on this, That slippery all ambition is
Robert Herrick
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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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In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me.
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
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It takes great wit and interest and energy to be happy. The pursuit of happiness is a great activity. One must be open and alive. It is the greatest feat man has to accomplish.
Robert Herrick
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Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
Robert Herrick
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Well I sup and well I dine, When I drink my frolic wine.
Robert Herrick
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Temptations hurt not, though they have accesse Satan o'ercomes none but by willingnesse.
Robert Herrick
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For pitty, Sir, find out that Bee Which bore my Love away I'le seek him in your Bonnet brave, I'le seek him in your eyes.
Robert Herrick
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Things are evermore sincere / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.
Robert Herrick
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In sober mornings do not thou rehearse The holy incantation of a verse
Robert Herrick
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The person lives twice who lives the first life well
Robert Herrick
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That age is best which is the first When youth and blood are warmer.
Robert Herrick
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Learn this of me, where'er thy lot doth fall, Short lot, or not, to be content with all.
Robert Herrick
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A spark neglected makes a mighty fire.
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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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