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God forbid that Judges upon their oath should make resolutions to enlarge jurisdiction.
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
Judging
Upon
Jurisdiction
Make
Enlarge
Resolutions
Forbid
Oath
Judges
Resolution
More quotes by William Cowper
[My kitten] is dressed in a tortoise-shell suit, and I know you will delight in her.
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Ten thousand casks, Forever dribbling out their base contents, Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. Drink, and be mad then 'tis your country bids!
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Lights of the world, and stars of human race.
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God never meant that man should scale the Heavens By strides of human wisdom. In his works, Though wondrous, he commands us in his word To seek him rather where his mercy shines.
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Misery still delights to trace Its semblance in another's case.
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Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, Have oft-times no connection. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
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For when was public virtue to be found Where private was not?
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Accomplishments have taken virtue's place, and wisdom falls before exterior grace.
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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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The few that pray at all pray oft amiss.
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There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart he does not feel for man.
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Built God a church and laughed His word to scorn.
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Folly ends where genuine hope begins.
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How much a dunce that has been sent to roam, excels a dunce that has been kept at home.
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Books are not seldom talismans and spells.
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Misses! the tale that I relate This lesson seems to carry-- Choose not alone a proper mate, But proper time to marry.
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Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your sons to love it, too.
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He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, And all are slaves besides.
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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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How soft the music of those village bells, Falling at interval upon the ear In cadence sweet now dying all away, Now pealing loud again, and louder still, Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on! With easy force it opens all the cells Where Memory slept.
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