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[My kitten's] gambols are not to be described, and would be incredible, if they could.

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
Incredible
Cat
Would
Kitten
Described

More quotes by William Cowper

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How soft the music of those village bells, Falling at interval upon the ear In cadence sweet now dying all away, Now pealing loud again, and louder still, Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on! With easy force it opens all the cells Where Memory slept.
William Cowper
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Restraining prayer, we cease to fight Prayer keeps the Christian's armor bright And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.
William Cowper
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Could he with reason murmur at his case, Himself sole author of his own disgrace?
William Cowper
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Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.
William Cowper
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Far happier are the dead methinks than they who look for death and fear it every day.
William Cowper
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Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true,- A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew.
William Cowper
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Pernicious weed! whose scent the fair annoys, Unfriendly to society's chief joys: Thy worst effect is banishing for hours The sex whose presence civilizes ours.
William Cowper
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Anticipated rents, and bills unpaid, Force many a shining youth into the shade, Not to redeem his time, but his estate, And play the fool, but at the cheaper rate.
William Cowper
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Vice stings us even in our pleasures, but virtue consoles us even in our pains.
William Cowper
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What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void The world can never fill.
William Cowper
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The innocent seldom find an uncomfortable pillow.
William Cowper
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Heaven's harmony is universal love.
William Cowper
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Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat, To peep at such a world to see the stir Of the Great Babel, and not feel the crowd.
William Cowper
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Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa around, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in
William Cowper
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A self-made man? Yes, and one who worships his creator.
William Cowper
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Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds you so much dread Are big with mercy and shall break, With blessings on your head
William Cowper
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The art of poetry is to touch the passions, and its duty to lead them on the side of virtue.
William Cowper
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Not a flower But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain, Of his unrivall'd pencil. He inspires Their balmy odors, and imparts their hues, And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes In grains as countless as the seaside sands, The forms with which he sprinkles all the earth Happy who walks with him!
William Cowper
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Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, the mere materials with which wisdom builds, till smoothed and squared and fitted to its place, does but encumber whom it seems to enrich. Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much wisdom is humble that he knows no more.
William Cowper
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But truths on which depends our main concern, That 'tis our shame and misery not to learn, Shine by the side of every path we tread With such a lustre he that runs may read.
William Cowper