Quote

Slaves cannot breathe in England if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free They touch our country, and their shackles fall.

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
Fall
Breathe
Moments
Slavery
Cannot
Slave
Country
Touch
England
Shackles
Air
Lungs
Free
Slaves
Moment
Receive

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Admirals extolled for standing still, or doing nothing with a deal of skill.
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But still remember, if you mean to please, To press your point with modesty and ease.
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Acquaint thyself with God, if thou would'st taste His works. Admitted once to his embrace, Thou shalt perceive that thou was blind before: Thine eye shall be instructed and thine heart Made pure shall relish with divine delight Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought.
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Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan his work in vain God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain.
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Is base in kind, and born to be a slave.
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O, popular applause! what heart of man is proof against thy sweet, seducing charms?
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How shall I speak thee, or thy power address Thou God of our idolatry, the Press. . . . . Like Eden's dead probationary tree, Knowledge of good and evil is from thee.
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A glory gilds the sacred page, Majestic like the sun, It gives a light to every age, It gives, but borrows none.
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As if the world and they were hand and glove.
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Even in the stifling bosom of the town, A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms That soothes the rich possessor much consol'd, That here and there some sprigs of mournful mint, Or nightshade, or valerian, grace the well He cultivates.
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They whom truth and wisdom lead, can gather honey from a weed.
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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.
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A lawyer's dealings should be just and fair Honesty shines with great advantage there.
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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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Ever let the Fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home.
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When nations are to perish in their sins, 'tis in the Church the leprosy begins.
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Made poetry a mere mechanic art.
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[My kitten's] gambols are not to be described, and would be incredible, if they could.
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Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.
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