Quotes by John Dryden
| Lord of yourself, uncumbered with a wife. |
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| A knockdown argument: 'tis but a word and a blow. |
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Be kind to my remains; and oh defend, Against your judgment, your departed friend! |
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| Death in itself is nothing; but we fear To be we know not what, we know not where. |
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A very merry, dancing, drinking, Laughing, quaffing, and unthinkable time. |
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Fairest Isle, all isles excelling, Seat of pleasures, and of loves; Venus here will choose her dwelling, And forsake her Cyprian groves. |
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He was exhaled; his great Creator drew His spirit, as the sun the morning dew. |
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Our vows are heard betimes! and Heaven takes care To grant, before we can conclude the prayer: '''Preventing angels met it half the way, And sent us back to praise, who came to pray.''' |
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Words, once my stock, are wanting to commend So great a poet and so good a friend. |
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Men met each other with erected look, The steps were higher that they took; Friends to congratulate their friends made haste, And long inveterate foes saluted as they passed. |
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Here lies my wife:here let her lie! Now she's at rest, and so am I. |
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Better to hunt in fields for health unbought Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught. The wise for cure on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend. |
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| They say everything in the world is good for something. |
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| Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence. |
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The sword within the scabbard keep And let mankind agree. |
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| Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child. |
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| This is the porcelain clay of humankind. |
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Like a led victim to my death I'll go And dying bless the hand that gave the blow. |
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| Whistling to keep myself from being afraid. |
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| Whatever is, is in its causes just. |
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| By viewing Nature, Nature's handmaid Art, Makes mighty things from small beginnings grow. |
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| Music is inarticulate poesy |
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| I am as free as Nature first made man, Ere the base laws of servitude began, When wild in woods the noble savage ran. |
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| There is a pleasure sure, In being mad which none but madmen know. |
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| I am reading Jonson's verses to the memory of Shakespeare; an insolent, sparing, and invidious panegyric... |
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O gracious God! how far have we Profaned thy heavenly gift of poesy! |
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Look round the habitable world: how few Know their own good or knowing it pursue. |
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| Pains of love be sweeter far Than all other pleasures are. |
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Ill habits gather by unseen degrees — As brooks make rivers rivers run to seas. |
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| Genius must be born, and never can be taught. |
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