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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
Nobody
Hair
Hate
Write
Persecuted
Doe
Pins
Writing
Ems
Letters
Serve

More quotes by William Congreve

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Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
William Congreve
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I confess freely to you, I could never look long upon a monkey, without very mortifying reflections.
William Congreve
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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.
William Congreve
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Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast...
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Courtship is to marriage, as a very witty prologue to a very dull play.
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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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.
William Congreve
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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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There is in true Beauty, as in Courage, somewhat which narrow Souls cannot dare to admire.
William Congreve
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O fie, miss, you must not kiss and tell.
William Congreve
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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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I know that’s a secret, for it’s whispered everywhere.
William Congreve
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One minute gives invention to destroy What to rebuild, will a whole age employ.
William Congreve
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Wit must be foiled by wit: cut a diamond with a diamond.
William Congreve
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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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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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Though marriage makes man and wife one flesh, it leaves 'em still two fools.
William Congreve
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Women are like tricks by sleight of hand, Which, to admire, we should not understand
William Congreve
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I nauseate walking 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
William Congreve
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If there's delight in love, 'Tis when I see that heart, which others bleed for, bleed for me.
William Congreve