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The proud are ever most provoked by pride.

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
Haughtiness
Provoked
Pride
Proud
Ever

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Pleasure admitted in undue degree, enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.
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Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule.
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Religion, richest favor of the skies.
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When from soft love proceeds the deep distress, ah! why forbid the willing tears to flow?
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All we behold is miracle.
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Absence of occupation is not rest A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.
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Necessity invented stools, Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs, And luxury the accomplish'd Sofa last.
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Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.
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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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War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.
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Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.
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... she, that will with kittens jest, Should bear a kitten's joke.
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No wisdom that she may gain by experience and reflection hereafter, will compensate the loss of her present hilarity.
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No traveler e'er reached that blest abode who found not thorns and briers in his road.
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The things that mount the rostrum with a skip, And then skip down again, pronounce a text, Cry hem and reading what they never wrote Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work, And with a well-bred whisper close the scene!
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Spare feast! a radish and an egg.
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This fond attachment to the well-known place Whence first we started into life's long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day.
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What is it but a map of busy life, Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns?
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We bear our shades about us self-deprived Of other screen, the thin umbrella spread, And range an Indian waste without a tree.
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Misery still delights to trace Its semblance in another's case.
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