Quote

O solitude, where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place.

William Cowper

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William Cowper
Age: 68 †
Born: 1731
Born: November 26
Died: 1800
Died: April 25
Hymnwriter
Poet
Poet Lawyer
Translator
Writer
Berkhamsted
Hertfordshire
Seen
Alarms
Face
Sage
Faces
Dwell
House
Reign
Place
Charm
Better
Midst
Solitude
Sages
Horrible
Charms

More quotes by William Cowper

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Go, mark the matchless working of the power That shuts within the seed the future flower Bids these in elegance of form excel. In color these, and those delight the smell Sends nature forth, the daughter of the skies, To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
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With spots quadrangular of diamond form, ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, and spades, the emblems of untimely graves.
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Blest be the art that can immortalize,--the art that baffles time's tyrannic claim to quench it.
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A fretful temper will divide the closest knot that may be tied, by ceaseless sharp corrosion a temper passionate and fierce may suddenly your joys disperse at one immense explosion.
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Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.
William Cowper
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God made bees, and bees made honey, God made man, and man made money, Pride made the devil, and the devil made sin So God made a cole-pit to put the devil in.
William Cowper
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And the tear that is wiped with a little address, May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.
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The proud are ever most provoked by pride.
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In indolent vacuity of thought.
William Cowper
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Religion does not censure or exclude Unnumbered pleasures, harmlessly pursued.
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Not to understand a treasure's worth till time has stole away the slighted good, is cause of half the poverty we feel, and makes the world the wilderness it is.
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O Winter, ruler of the inverted year!
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Where men of judgment creep and feel their way, The positive pronounce without dismay.
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Call'd to the temple of impure delight He that abstains, and he alone, does right. If a wish wander that way, call it home He cannot long be safe whose wishes roam.
William Cowper
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They best can judge a poet's worth, Who oft themselves have known The pangs of a poetic birth By labours of their own.
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Lord, it is my chief complaint, That my love is weak and faint Yet I love thee and adore, Oh for grace to love thee more!
William Cowper
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Unless a love of virtue light the flame, Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame He hides behind a magisterial air He own offences, and strips others' bare.
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Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face. His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hourThe bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flow’r. Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.
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No traveler e'er reached that blest abode who found not thorns and briers in his road.
William Cowper
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Ceremony leads her bigots forth, prepared to fight for shadows of no worth. While truths, on which eternal things depend, can hardly find a single friend.
William Cowper