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

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To impute our recovery to medicine, and to carry our view no further, is to rob God of His honor, and is saying in effect that He has parted with the keys of life and death, and, by giving to a drug the power to heal us, has placed our lives out of His own reach.
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But slaves that once conceive the glowing thought Of freedom, in that hope itself possess All that the contest calls for spirit, strength, The scorn of danger, and united hearts, The surest presage of the good they seek.
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I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
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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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The proud are ever most provoked by pride.
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Religion, if in heavenly truths attired, Needs only to be seen to be admired.
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Philologists, who chase A painting syllable through time and space Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark, To Gaul, to Greece, and into Noah's Ark.
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All constraint, / Except what wisdom lays on evil men, / Is evil.
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When scandal has new-minted an old lie, Or tax'd invention for a fresh supply, 'Tis call'd a satire, and the world appears Gathering around it with erected ears A thousand names are toss'd into the crowd, Some whisper'd softly, and some twang'd aloud, Just as the sapience of an author's brain, Suggests it safe or dangerous to be plain.
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Vice stings us even in our pleasures, but virtue consoles us even in our pains.
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Solitude, seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave a sepulchre in which the living lie, where all good qualities grow sick and die
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An inadvertent step may crush the snail That crawls at evening in the public path. But he that has humanity, forewarned, Will turn aside and let the reptile live.
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How! leap into the pit our life to save? To save our life leap all into the grave.
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With spots quadrangular of diamond form, ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, and spades, the emblems of untimely graves.
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Religion does not censure or exclude Unnumbered pleasures, harmlessly pursued.
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What is it but a map of busy life, Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns?
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The parson knows enough who knows a Duke.
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The solemn fop significant and budge A fool with judges, amongst fools a judge
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All we behold is miracle.
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Men deal with life as children with their play, Who first misuse, then cast their toys away.
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