Quote

A story, in which native humour reigns, Is often useful, always entertains A graver fact, enlisted on your side, May furnish illustration, well applied But sedentary weavers of long tales Give me the fidgets, and my patience fails.

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
Well
Story
Humour
Enlisted
Giving
Fact
Native
Sedentary
Long
Often
Tales
Furnish
Always
Facts
Useful
Reigns
Stories
Patience
Illustration
Give
Failing
Applied
Graver
May
Side
Fails
Entertains
Wells
Sides
Reign
Weavers

More quotes by William Cowper

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Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust Him for His grace Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.
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I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute, From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
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A teacher should be sparing of his smile.
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And the tear that is wiped with a little address, May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.
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O Winter! ruler of the inverted year, . . . I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturbed Retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted evening, know.
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When one that holds communion with the skies Has fill'd his urn where these pure waters rise, And once more mingles with us meaner things, 'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings.
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The few that pray at all pray oft amiss.
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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.
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In a fleshly tomb, I am buried above ground.
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Built God a church and laughed His word to scorn.
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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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Twere better to be born a stone Of ruder shape, and feeling none, Than with a tenderness like mine And sensibilities so fine! Ah, hapless wretch! condemn'd to dwell Forever in my native shell, Ordained to move when others please, Not for my own content or ease But toss'd and buffeted about, Now in the water and now out.
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Lord, it is my chief complaint, That my love is weak and faint Yet I love thee and adore, Oh for grace to love thee more!
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Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.
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All we behold is miracle.
William Cowper
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Strange as it may seem, the most ludicrous lines I ever wrote have been written in the saddest mood.
William Cowper
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What is it but a map of busy life, Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns?
William Cowper
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As if the world and they were hand and glove.
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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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Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unseen, a kiss Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss.
William Cowper