Quote

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

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William Congreve
Age: 58 †
Born: 1670
Born: January 24
Died: 1729
Died: January 19
Engineer
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Revenge
Heartily
Large
Catalogues
Failing
Insolence
Took
Failings
Pieces
Separated
Hate
Ems
Sifted
Used
Studied
Rote
Without
Hopes
Catalogue

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If happiness in self-content is placed, The wise are wretched, and fools only blessed.
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There are times when sense may be unseasonable, as well as truth.
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Love's but the frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined A sickly flame, which if not fed expires And feeding, wastes in self-consuming fires.
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How hard a thing 'twould be to please you all.
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Whoever is king, is also the father of his country.
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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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Love's but a frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined.
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Nothing but you can lay hold of my mind, and that can lay hold of nothing but you.
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I nauseate walking 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
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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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These articles subscribed, if I continue to endure you a little longer, I may by degrees dwindle into wife.
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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.
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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.
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Let us be very strange and well-bred:Let us be as strange as if we had been married a great whileAnd as well-bred as if we were not married at all.
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Hannibal was a very pretty fellow in those days.
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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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Music alone with sudden charms can bind The wand'ring sense, and calm the troubled mind.
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No, I'm no enemy to learning it hurts not me.
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He that first cries out stop thief, is often he that has stolen the treasure.
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A little scorn is alluring.
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