Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
We are all born originals - why is it so many of us die copies?
A strange alternative * * *Must women have a doctor or a dance?
The bell strikes one. We take no note of time But from its loss.
Ocean into tempest wrought, To waft a feather, or to drown a fly.
Thoughts shut up want air, And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.
As soon as we have found the key of life, it opens the gates of death.
Angels are men of a superior kind; Angels are men in lighter habit clad.
A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
Who knows if Shakespeare might not have thought less if he had read more?
In chambers deep, Where waters sleep, What unknown treasures pave the floor.
Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.
Distinguisht Link in Being's endless Chain! Midway from Nothing to the Deity!
Of boasting more than of a bomb afraid, A soldier should be modest as a maid.
The weak have remedies, the wise have joys; superior wisdom is superior bliss.
Narcissus is the glory of his race: For who does nothing with a better grace?.
We are not all great because we are inspired, but we feel great because we are.
Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!
Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, United jar, and yet are loth to part.
Oh, how portentous is prosperity! How comet-like, it threatens while it shines.
We cry for mercy to the next amusement, The next amusement mortgages our fields
Who lives to Nature, rarely can be poor ; who lives to fancy, never can be rich.
At thirty, man suspects himself a fool; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan.
Polite diseases make some idiots vain, Which, if unfortunately well, they feign.
Friendship's the wine of life: but friendship new... is neither strong nor pure.
Accept a miracle, instead of wit See two dull lines, with Stanhope's pencil writ.
Ah, how unjust to Nature and himself Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man!
Unlearned men of books assume the care, As eunuchs are the guardians of the fair.
Nothing in Nature, much less conscious being, Was e'er created solely for itself.
On every thorn, delightful wisdom grows, In every rill a sweet instruction flows.
Where Nature's end of language is declin'd, And men talk only to conceal the mind.
We nothing know, but what is marvellous; Yet what is marvellous, we can't believe.
A foe to God ne'er was true friend to man, Some sinister intent taints all he does.
Leisure is pain; take off our chariot wheels; how heavily we drag the load of life!
Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled.
Our birth is nothing but our death begun, As tapers waste the moment they take fire.
Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, "That all men are about to live."
The booby father craves a booby son, And by Heaven's blessing thinks himself undone.
Titles are marks of honest men, and wise; The fool or knave that wears a title lies.
Much learning shows how little mortals know; much wealth, how little wordlings enjoy.
When men of infamy to grandeur soar, They light a torch to show their shame the more.
The first sure symptom of a mind in health Is rest of heart and pleasure felt at home.
The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.
Man makes a death which Nature never made. And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one.
Who, for the poor renown of being smart, Would leave a sting within a brother's heart?
Satire recoils whenever charged too high; round your own fame the fatal splinters fly.
Woes cluster. Rare are solitary woes; They love a train, they tread each other's heel.
Our birth is nothing but our death begun; As tapers waste, that instant they take fire.
It is great and manly to disdain disguise; it shows our spirit and proves our strength.