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Women like flames have a destroying power never to be quenched till they themselves devour.

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
Like
Quenched
Devour
Flames
Destroying
Till
Power
Women
Never

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Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, And black despair succeeds brown study.
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There are come Critics so with Spleen diseased, They scarcely come inclining to be pleased: And sure he must have more than mortal Skill, Who please one against his Will.
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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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A wit should no more be sincere, than a woman constant one argues a decay of parts, as to other of beauty.
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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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Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast...
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Defer not till to-morrow to be wise, To-morrow's Sun to thee may never rise Or should to-morrow chance to cheer thy sight With her enlivening and unlook'd for light, How grateful will appear her dawning rays! As favours unexpected doubly please.
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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.
William Congreve
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Who pleases one against his will.
William Congreve
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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.
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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.
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To find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his own eye, nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a very hard task.
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Wit must be foiled by wit: cut a diamond with a diamond.
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Every man plays the fool once in his live, but to marry is playing the fool all one's life long.
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I am a fool, I know it and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.
William Congreve
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If this be not love, it is madness, and then it is pardonable.
William Congreve
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No, I'm no enemy to learning it hurts not me.
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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
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A little scorn is alluring.
William Congreve
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Some by experience find those words mis-placed: At leisure married, they repent in haste.
William Congreve