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Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing.
William Congreve
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William Congreve
Age: 58 †
Born: 1670
Born: January 24
Died: 1729
Died: January 19
Engineer
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Joy
Overtaking
Risk
Insipid
Security
Expectation
Thing
Joys
Life
Anticipation
Uncertain
Uncertainty
Expectations
More quotes by William Congreve
Courtship is to marriage, as a very witty prologue to a very dull play.
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Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, and though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
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Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.
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Music alone with sudden charms can bind The wand'ring sense, and calm the troubled mind.
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Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
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Thou art a retailer of phrases, and dost deal in remnants of remnants.
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She likes herself, yet others hates, For that which in herself she prizes And while she laughs at them, forgets She is the thing that she despises.
William Congreve
But say what you will, 'tis better to be left than never to have been loved. To pass our youth in dull indifference, to refuse the sweets of life because they once must leave us, is as preposterous as to wish to have been born old, because we one day must be old.
William Congreve
It is the business of a comic poet to paint the vices and follies of human kind.
William Congreve
I am a fool, I know it and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.
William Congreve
Come, come, leave business to idlers, and wisdom to fools: they have need of 'em: wit be my faculty, and pleasure my occupation, and let father Time shake his glass.
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Say what you will, 'tis better to be left than never to have been loved.
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There is nothing more unbecoming a man of quality than to laugh ... 'tis such a vulgar expression of the passion!
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No, I'm no enemy to learning it hurts not me.
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O, she is the antidote to desire.
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A woman only obliges a man to secrecy, that she may have the pleasure of telling herself.
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Delay not till tomorrow to be wise tomorrow's sun to thee may neve rise.
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O fie, miss, you must not kiss and tell.
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I always take blushing either for a sign of guilt, or of ill breeding.
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Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
William Congreve