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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.
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
Letters
Praying
Madam
Poetry
Verse
Hair
Pins
Keep
Verses
Find
Copies
Must
Prose
Never
Pray
More quotes by William Congreve
I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull.
William Congreve
Wit must be foiled by wit: cut a diamond with a diamond.
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.
William Congreve
Love's but a frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined.
William Congreve
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
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
Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
William Congreve
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
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.
William Congreve
A wit should no more be sincere, than a woman constant one argues a decay of parts, as to other of beauty.
William Congreve
Every man plays the fool once in his live, but to marry is playing the fool all one's life long.
William Congreve
These articles subscribed, if I continue to endure you a little longer, I may by degrees dwindle into wife.
William Congreve
Men are apt to offend ('tis true) where they find most goodness to forgive.
William Congreve
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
Invention flags, his brain goes muddy, And black despair succeeds brown study.
William Congreve
Some by experience find those words mis-placed: At leisure married, they repent in haste.
William Congreve
I always take blushing either for a sign of guilt, or of ill breeding.
William Congreve
Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.
William Congreve
Guilt is ever at a loss, and confusion waits upon it when innocence and bold truth are always ready for expression.
William Congreve
I nauseate walking 'tis a country diversion, I loathe the country.
William Congreve
