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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

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William Congreve
Age: 58 †
Born: 1670
Born: January 24
Died: 1729
Died: January 19
Engineer
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Thus
Contemplates
Depends
Admires
Alone
Trusts
State
Pleasing
Upon
Contemplating
States
Adore
Soul
Admire
Nothing
Thee
Adores

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Nothing but you can lay hold of my mind, and that can lay hold of nothing but you.
William Congreve
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Mr Witwould: Pray, madam, do you pin up your hair with all your letters? I find I must keep copies. Mrs Millamant: Only with those in verse.... I never pin up my hair with prose.
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No, I'm no enemy to learning it hurts not me.
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Who pleases one against his will.
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Marriage indeed may qualify the fury of his passion, but it very rarely mends a man's manners.
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'Tis well enough for a servant to be bred at an University. But the education is a little too pedantic for a gentleman.
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I came up stairs into the world, for I was born in a cellar.
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To converse with Scandal is to play at Losing Loadum, you must lose a good name to him, before you can win it for yourself.
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Music alone with sudden charms can bind The wand'ring sense, and calm the troubled mind.
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I hope you do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials.
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Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast...
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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.
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I nauseate walking 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
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There is in true Beauty, as in Courage, somewhat which narrow Souls cannot dare to admire.
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If happiness in self-content is placed, The wise are wretched, and fools only blessed.
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Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in those days.
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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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Honor is a public enemy, and conscience a domestic, and he that would secure his pleasure, must pay a tribute to one and go halves with t'other.
William Congreve
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I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull.
William Congreve
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O, she is the antidote to desire.
William Congreve