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Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, And black despair succeeds brown study.
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
Brain
Succeeds
Black
Flags
Brown
Invention
Despair
Succeed
Goes
Study
Muddy
More quotes by William Congreve
Thou art a retailer of phrases, and dost deal in remnants of remnants.
William Congreve
They come together like the Coroner's Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.
William Congreve
Beauty is the lover's gift.
William Congreve
I am a fool, I know it and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.
William Congreve
Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, and though a late, a sure reward succeeds.
William Congreve
A woman only obliges a man to secrecy, that she may have the pleasure of telling herself.
William Congreve
Thus in this sad, but oh, too pleasing state! my soul can fix upon nothing but thee thee it contemplates, admires, adores, nay depends on, trusts on you alone.
William Congreve
All well bred persons lie - Besides, you are a woman you must never speak what you think.
William Congreve
He that first cries out stop thief, is often he that has stolen the treasure.
William Congreve
I nauseate walking 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
William Congreve
There are times when sense may be unseasonable, as well as truth.
William Congreve
Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.
William Congreve
She once used me with that insolence, that in revenge I took her to pieces sifted her, and separated her failings I studied 'em, and got 'em by rote. The catalogue was so large, that I was not without hopes, one day or other to hate her heartily.
William Congreve
Music alone with sudden charms can bind The wand'ring sense, and calm the troubled mind.
William Congreve
I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull.
William Congreve
Turn pimp, flatterer, quack, lawyer, parson, be chaplain to an atheist, or stallion to an old woman, anything but a poet for a poet is worse, more servile, timorous and fawning than any I have named.
William Congreve
Music has charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak. I've read that things inanimate have moved, and, as with living souls, have been inform'd, by magic numbers and persuasive sound.
William Congreve
Women are like tricks by sleight of hand, Which, to admire, we should not understand
William Congreve
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
O ay, letters - I had letters - I am persecuted with letters - I hate letters - nobody knows how to write letters and yet one has 'em, one does not know why - they serve one to pin up one's hair.
William Congreve