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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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William Congreve
Age: 58 †
Born: 1670
Born: January 24
Died: 1729
Died: January 19
Engineer
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
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Writer
Fool
Wise
Happiness
Complacency
Self
Wretched
Placed
Fools
Content
Blessed
More quotes by William Congreve
No, I'm no enemy to learning it hurts not me.
William Congreve
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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They come together like the Coroner's Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.
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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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Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
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I know that’s a secret, for it’s whispered everywhere.
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Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing.
William Congreve
Women are like tricks by sleight of hand, Which, to admire, we should not understand
William Congreve
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
Who pleases one against his will.
William Congreve
I am always of the opinion with the learned, if they speak first.
William Congreve
I am a fool, I know it and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.
William Congreve
I nauseate walking 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
William Congreve
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.
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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
Marriage is honourable, as you say and if so, wherefore should Cuckoldom be a Discredit, being deriv'd from so honourable a Root?
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Say what you will, 'tis better to be left than never to have been loved.
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He that first cries out stop thief, is often he that has stolen the treasure.
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If this be not love, it is madness, and then it is pardonable.
William Congreve
I hope you do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials.
William Congreve