Quote

What is it but a map of busy life, Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns?

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
Life
Fluctuations
Fluctuation
Concerns
Maps
Vast
Busy
Concern

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Absence of occupation is not rest A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.
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If my resolution to be a great man was half so strong as it is to despise the shame of being a little one.
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No wild enthusiast could rest, till half the world like him was possessed.
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He that attends to his interior self, That has a heart, and keeps it has a mind That hungers, and supplies it and who seeks A social, not a dissipated life, Has business.
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Where men of judgment creep and feel their way, The positive pronounce without dismay.
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The solemn fop significant and budge A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge
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Did Charity prevail, the press would prove A vehicle of virtue, truth, and love.
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A tale should be judicious, clear, succinct The language plain, and incidents well link'd Tell not as new what ev'ry body knows and, new or old, still hasten to a close.
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They whom truth and wisdom lead, can gather honey from a weed.
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Most satirists are indeed a public scourge Their mildest physic is a farrier's purge Their acrid temper turns, as soon as stirr'd, The milk of their good purpose all to curd. Their zeal begotten, as their works rehearse, By lean despair upon an empty purse.
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We sacrifice to dress till household joys and comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry, and keeps our larder lean.
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True modesty is a discerning grace And only blushes in the proper place But counterfeit is blind, and skulks through fear, Where 'tis a shame to be asham'd t' appear: Humility the parent of the first, The last by vanity produc'd and nurs'd.
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Sacred interpreter of human thought, How few respect or use thee as they ought! But all shall give account of every wrong, Who dare dishonor or defile the tongue Who prostitute it in the cause of vice, Or sell their glory at a market-price!
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A heretic, my dear sir, is a fellow who disagrees with you regarding something neither of you knows anything about.
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Fancy, like the finger of a clock, Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.
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Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.
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I venerate the man whose heart is warm, Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life, Coincident, exhibit lucid proof That he is honest in the sacred cause.
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Those flimsy webs that break as soon as wrought, attain not to the dignity of thought.
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The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick, / whom, snoring, she disturbs.
William Cowper
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Some men make gain a fountain, whence proceeds A stream of liberal and heroic deeds The swell of pity, not to be confined Within the scanty limits of the mind.
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