Quote

If a great man struggling with misfortunes is a noble object, a little man that despises them is no contemptible one.

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
Struggle
Despises
Littles
Contemptible
Little
Struggling
Great
Misfortunes
Men
Despise
Object
Noble
Objects

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Some people are more nice than wise.
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Fancy, like the finger of a clock, Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.
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The man that dares traduce, because he can with safety to himself, is not a man.
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Sends Nature forth the daughter of the skies... To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
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Knowledge is proud that it knows so much wisdom is humble that it knows no more.
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A lawyer's dealings should be just and fair Honesty shines with great advantage there.
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Come, evening, once again, season of peace Return, sweet evening, and continue long! Methinks I see thee in the streaky west, With matron step, slow moving, while the night Treads on thy sweeping train one hand employ'd In letting fall the curtain of repose On bird and beast, the other charged for man With sweet oblivion of the cares of day.
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Events of all sorts creep or fly exactly as God pleases.
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O solitude, where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place.
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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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Strength may wield the ponderous spade, May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home But elegance, chief grace the garden shows, And most attractive, is the fair result Of thought, the creature of a polished mind.
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Made poetry a mere mechanic art.
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Strange as it may seem, the most ludicrous lines I ever wrote have been written in the saddest mood.
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They fix attention, heedless of your pain, With oaths like rivets forced into the brain And e'en when sober truth prevails throughout, They swear it, till affirmance breeds a doubt.
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Whoever keeps an open ear For tattlers will be sure to hear The trumpet of contention.
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Spare feast! a radish and an egg.
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No one was ever scolded out of their sins.
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O Winter, ruler of the inverted year!
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I am out of humanity's reach.I must finish my journey alone,Never hear the sweet music of speechI start at the sound of my own.
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