Quote

How readily we wish time spent revoked, that we might try the ground again where once--through inexperience, as we now perceive--we missed that happiness we might have found!

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
Trying
Perceive
Time
Spent
Ground
Happiness
Wish
Revoked
Found
Inexperience
Past
Readily
Might
Missed

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Greece, sound, thy Homer's, Rome thy Virgil's name, But England's Milton equals both in fame.
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A fool must now and then be right, by chance
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'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume And we are weeds without it.
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The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all And every soul bawled out, Well done! As loud as he could bawl.
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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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Not to understand a treasure's worth till time has stole away the slighted good, is cause of half the poverty we feel, and makes the world the wilderness it is.
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Forced from home, and all its pleasures, afric coast I left forlorn to increase a stranger's treasures, o the raging billows borne. Men from England bought and sold me, paid my price in paltry gold but, though theirs they have enroll'd me, minds are never to be sold.
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Folly ends where genuine hope begins.
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I have a kitten,the drollest of all creatures that ever wore a cat's skin.
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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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Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.
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How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.
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The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk, Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk, Is always happy, reign whoever may, And laughs the sense of mis'ry far away.
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Mountains interposed Make enemies of nations, who had else Like kindred drops been mingled into one.
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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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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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All affectation 'tis my perfect scorn Object of my implacable disgust.
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He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves besides.
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The beggarly last doit.
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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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