Quote

All flesh is grass. and all its glory fades Like the fair flower dishevell'd in the wind Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream The man we celebrate must find a tomb, And we that worship him, ignoble graves.

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
Find
Flesh
Grandeur
Must
Wings
Fades
Men
Worship
Riches
Like
Flower
Graves
Glory
Celebrate
Wind
Grass
Ignoble
Death
Fairs
Tomb
Dream
Fair
Tombs

More quotes by William Cowper

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A life all turbulence and noise may seem To him that leads it wise and to be praised, But wisdom is a pearl with most success Sought in still waters.
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Man disavows, and Deity disowns me: hell might afford my miseries a shelter therefore hell keeps her ever-hungry mouths all bolted against me.
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A lawyer's dealings should be just and fair Honesty shines with great advantage there.
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The earth was made so various, that the mind Of desultory man, studious of change, And pleased with novelty, might be indulged.
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Where men of judgment creep and feel their way, The positive pronounce without dismay.
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Still ending, and beginning still.
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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.
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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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Tea - the cups that cheer but not inebriate.
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E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream thy flowing wounds supply, redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die.
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A moral, sensible, and well-bred manWill not affront me, and no other can.
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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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An idler is a watch that wants both hands As useless if it goes as when it stands.
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Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa around, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in
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All zeal for a reform, that gives offence To peace and charity, is mere pretence.
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The bird that flutters least is longest on the wing.
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Laugh at all you trembled at before.
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A fool must now and then be right, by chance
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The slaves of custom and established mode, With pack-horse constancy we keep the road Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny dells, True to the jingling of our leader's bells.
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A man renowned for repartee will seldom scruple to make free with friendship's finest feeling, will thrust a dagger at your breast, and say he wounded you in jest, by way of balm for healing.
William Cowper