Quote

The earth was made so various, that the mind Of desultory man, studious of change, And pleased with novelty, might be indulged.

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
Mind
Novelty
Men
Pleased
Variety
Various
Change
Earth
Desultory
Might
Indulged
Made
Studious

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[My kitten's] gambols are not to be described, and would be incredible, if they could.
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Built God a church and laughed His word to scorn.
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Manner is all in all, whate'er is writ,The substitute for genius, sense, and wit.
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Religion, if in heavenly truths attired, Needs only to be seen to be admired.
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Folly ends where genuine hope begins.
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For when was public virtue to be found Where private was not?
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God forbid that Judges upon their oath should make resolutions to enlarge jurisdiction.
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Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing, Unsoil'd, and swift, and of a silken sound.
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Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unseen, a kiss Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
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Poor England! thou art a devoted deer, Beset with every ill but that of fear. The nations hunt all mock thee for a prey They swarm around thee, and thou stand'st at bay.
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She that asks Her dear five hundred friends, contemns them all, And hates their coming.
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Forced from home, and all its pleasures, afric coast I left forlorn to increase a stranger's treasures, o the raging billows borne. Men from England bought and sold me, paid my price in paltry gold but, though theirs they have enroll'd me, minds are never to be sold.
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As if the world and they were hand and glove.
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We are never more in danger than when we think ourselves most secure, nor in reality more secure than when we seem to be most in danger.
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A moral, sensible, and well-bred manWill not affront me, and no other can.
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The beggarly last doit.
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How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.
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Tea - the cups that cheer but not inebriate.
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Twere better to be born a stone Of ruder shape, and feeling none, Than with a tenderness like mine And sensibilities so fine! Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell Forever in my native shell, Ordained to move when others please, Not for my own content or ease But toss'd and buffeted about, Now in the water and now out.
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Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer Trials bring me to His feet, Lay me low, and keep me there.
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