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The rich are too indolent, the poor too weak, to bear the insupportable fatigue of thinking.
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
Rich
Poor
Thinking
Insupportable
Indolent
Fatigue
Bear
Bears
Weak
More quotes by William Cowper
I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
William Cowper
The only amaranthine flower on earth is virtue the only lasting treasure, truth.
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And, of all lies (be that one poet's boast) / The lie that flatters I abhor the most.
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Mountains interposed Make enemies of nations, who had else Like kindred drops been mingled into one.
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Unmissed but by his dogs and by his groom.
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Did Charity prevail, the press would prove A vehicle of virtue, truth, and love.
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A heretic, my dear sir, is a fellow who disagrees with you regarding something neither of you knows anything about.
William Cowper
Most satirists are indeed a public scourge Their mildest physic is a farrier's purge Their acrid temper turns, as soon as stirr'd, The milk of their good purpose all to curd. Their zeal begotten, as their works rehearse, By lean despair upon an empty purse.
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Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat, To peep at such a world to see the stir Of the Great Babel, and not feel the crowd.
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England, with all thy faults I love thee still, My country!
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No traveler e'er reached that blest abode who found not thorns and briers in his road.
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To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think.
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In indolent vacuity of thought.
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Pleasure is labour too, and tires as much.
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The innocent seldom find an uncomfortable pillow.
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Religion, if in heavenly truths attired, Needs only to be seen to be admired.
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Satan trembles when he sees the weakest saint upon their knees.
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The parable of the prodigal son, the most beautiful fiction that ever was invented our Saviour's speech to His disciples, with which He closed His earthly ministrations, full of the sublimest dignity and tenderest affection, surpass everything that I ever read and like the spirit by which they were dictated, fly directly to the heart.
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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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In a fleshly tomb, I am buried above ground.
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