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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

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William Congreve
Age: 58 †
Born: 1670
Born: January 24
Died: 1729
Died: January 19
Engineer
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Hair
Hate
Write
Persecuted
Doe
Pins
Writing
Ems
Letters
Serve
Nobody

More quotes by William Congreve

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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.
William Congreve
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O fie, miss, you must not kiss and tell.
William Congreve
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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.
William Congreve
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If happiness in self-content is placed, The wise are wretched, and fools only blessed.
William Congreve
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A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, In hopes, through many, to make sure of one.
William Congreve
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Marriage is honourable, as you say and if so, wherefore should Cuckoldom be a Discredit, being deriv'd from so honourable a Root?
William Congreve
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Wit must be foiled by wit: cut a diamond with a diamond.
William Congreve
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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
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Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
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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No mask like open truth to cover lies, As to go naked is the best disguise.
William Congreve
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I know a lady that loves to talk so incessantly, she won't give an echo fair play she has that everlasting rotation of tongue that an echo must wait till she dies before it can catch her last words!
William Congreve
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Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing.
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.
William Congreve
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They come together like the Coroner's Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.
William Congreve
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How hard a thing 'twould be to please you all.
William Congreve
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I nauseate walking 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
William Congreve
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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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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.
William Congreve
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If this be not love, it is madness, and then it is pardonable.
William Congreve