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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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William Congreve
Age: 58 †
Born: 1670
Born: January 24
Died: 1729
Died: January 19
Engineer
Librettist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Chance
Rise
Doubly
Light
Thee
Morrow
May
Grateful
Favour
Never
Sun
Rays
Sight
Cheer
Enlivening
Tomorrow
Unexpected
Dawning
Please
Till
Defer
Wise
Appear
Favours

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He that first cries out stop thief, is often he that has stolen the treasure.
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Who pleases one against his will.
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A wit should no more be sincere, than a woman constant one argues a decay of parts, as to other of beauty.
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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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I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull.
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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.
William Congreve
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A little scorn is alluring.
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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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Music alone with sudden charms can bind The wand'ring sense, and calm the troubled mind.
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O fie, miss, you must not kiss and tell.
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O, she is the antidote to desire.
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In my conscience I believe the baggage loves me, for she never speaks well of me herself, nor suffers any body else to rail at me.
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Thou art a retailer of phrases, and dost deal in remnants of remnants.
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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!
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Women like flames have a destroying power never to be quenched till they themselves devour.
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I hope you do not think me prone to any iteration of nuptials.
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One minute gives invention to destroy What to rebuild, will a whole age employ.
William Congreve
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Love's but a frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined.
William Congreve
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If this be not love, it is madness, and then it is pardonable.
William Congreve
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If happiness in self-content is placed, The wise are wretched, and fools only blessed.
William Congreve