Quote

How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light.

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
Compared
Lag
Flight
Fleet
Speed
Winged
Behinds
Tempest
Behind
Swift
Light
Glance
Mind
Arrows
Glances
Lags

More quotes by William Cowper

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But war's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings should not play at. Nations would do well To extort their truncheons from the puny hands Of heroes, whose infirm and baby minds Are gratified with mischief, and who spoil, Because men suffer it, their toy the world.
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Accomplishments have taken virtue's place, and wisdom falls before exterior grace.
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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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Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.
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Happy the man who sees a God employed in all the good and ills that checker life.
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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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Sin let loose speaks punishment at hand.
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Elegant as simplicity, and warm As ecstasy.
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In man or woman, but far most in man, And most of all in man that ministers, And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn: Object of my implacable disgust.
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A lawyer's dealings should be just and fair Honesty shines with great advantage there.
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When scandal has new-minted an old lie, Or tax'd invention for a fresh supply, 'Tis call'd a satire, and the world appears Gathering around it with erected ears A thousand names are toss'd into the crowd, Some whisper'd softly, and some twang'd aloud, Just as the sapience of an author's brain, Suggests it safe or dangerous to be plain.
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Lived in his saddle, loved the chase, the course, And always, ere he mounted, kiss'd his horse.
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I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, for how could we do without sugar and rum?
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Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.
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Blest be the art that can immortalize.
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Mountains interposed Make enemies of nations, who had else Like kindred drops been mingled into one.
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Admirals extolled for standing still, or doing nothing with a deal of skill.
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The cares of today are seldom those of tomorrow, and when we lie down at night we may safely say to most of our troubles, Ye have done your worst, and we shall see you no more.
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Remorse, the fatal egg that pleasure laid.
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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