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Necessity invented stools, Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs, And luxury the accomplish'd Sofa last.

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
Chairs
Stools
Invented
Elbow
Necessity
Sofa
Luxury
Sofas
Accomplish
Elbows
Lasts
Suggested
Last
Convenience
Next
Furniture

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The cares of today are seldom those of tomorrow.
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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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And in that hour, The seeds of cruelty, that since have swell'd To such gigantic and enormous growth, Were sown in human nature's fruitful soil. Hence date the persecution and the pain That man inflicts on all inferior kinds, Regardless of their plaints.
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God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform. He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.
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There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark! And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk.
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Blest be the art that can immortalize,--the art that baffles time's tyrannic claim to quench it.
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We are never more in danger than when we think ourselves most secure, nor in reality more secure than when we seem to be most in danger.
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The beggarly last doit.
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He that has seen both sides of fifty has lived to little purpose if he has no other views of the world than he had when he was much younger.
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Oh to have a lodge in some vast wilderness. Where rumors of oppression and deceit, of unsuccessful and successful wars may never reach me anymore.
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A Christian's wit is offensive light, A beam that aids, but never grieves the sight Vig'rous in age as in the flush of youth, 'Tis always active on the side of truth.
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Defend me, therefore, common sense, say From reveries so airy, from the toil Of dropping buckets into empty wells, And growing old in drawing nothing up.
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Remorse, the fatal egg by pleasure laid, In every bosom where her nest is made, Hatched by the beams of truth, denies him rest, And proves a raging scorpion in his breast.
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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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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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Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilirate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature.
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They whom truth and wisdom lead, can gather honey from a weed.
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A moral, sensible, and well-bred manWill not affront me, and no other can.
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They love the country, and none else, who seek For their own sake its silence and its shade. Delights which who would leave, that has a heart Susceptible of pity, or a mind Cultured and capable of sober thought.
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