Top 488 Quotes & Sayings by John Dryden - Page 8

I am reading Jonson's verses to the memory of Shakespeare; an insolent, sparing, and invidious panegyric.

Criticism, as it was first instituted by Aristotle, was meant as a standard of judging well; the chiefest part of which is to observe those excellencies which delight a reasonable reader.

Arts and sciences in one and the same century have arrived at great perfection; and no wonder, since every age has a kind of universal genius, which inclines those that live in it to some particular studies; the work then, being pushed on by many hands, must go forward.

When beauty fires the blood, how love exalts the mind!

A man may be capable, as Jack Ketch's wife said of his servant, of a plain piece of work, a bare hanging; but to makea malefactordiesweetly was only belonging toher husband.

The elephant is never won by anger; nor must that man who would reclaim a lion take him by the teeth.

Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait.

From plots and treasons Heaven preserve my years, But save me most from my petitioners. Unsatiate as the barren womb or grave; God cannot grant so much as they can crave.

The Fates but only spin the coarser clue; The finest of the wool is left for you.

A satirical poet is the check of the laymen on bad priests.

Prodigious actions may as well be done, by weaver's issue, as the prince's son.

Whistling to keep myself from being afraid.

Love either finds equality or makes it.

Criticism is now become mere hangman's work, and meddles only with the faults of authors ; nay, the critic is disgusted less with their absurdities than excellence ; and you cannot displease him more than in leaving him little room for his malice.

For my part, I can compare her (a gossip) to nothing but the sun; for, like him, she knows no rest, nor ever sets in one place but to rise in another.

Fool, not to know that love endures no tie, And Jove but laughs at lovers' perjury.

If one must be rejected, one succeed, make him my lord within whose faithful breast is fixed my image, and who loves me best.

My right eye itches, some good luck is near.

Love taught him shame, and shame with love at strife Soon taught the sweet civilities of life.

Happy the man, and happy he alone, he, who can call today his own.

She feared no danger, for she knew no sin.

Ev'n wit's a burthen, when it talks too long.

Not to ask is not be denied.

And that one hunting, which the Devil design'd For one fair female, lost him half the kind.

How easy it is to call rogue and villain, and that wittily! But how hard to make a man appear a fool, a blockhead, or a knave, without using any of those opprobrious terms! Tosparethegrossness ofthenames, and to dothe thing yet moreseverely, isto drawa full face, and tomake the nose and cheeks stand out, and yet not to employ any depth of shadowing.

For every inch that is not fool, is rogue.

With odorous oil thy head and hair are sleek; And then thou kemb'st the tuzzes on thy cheek: Of these, my barbers take a costly care.

From Harmony, from heav'nly Harmony. This universal Frame began.

It is sufficient to say, according to the proverb, that here is God's plenty.

My whole life Has been a golden dream of love and friendship.

Be secret and discreet; the fairy favors are lost when not concealed.

Thou strong seducer, Opportunity!

By viewing nature, nature's handmaid art, Makes mighty things from small beginnings grow: Thus fishes first to shipping did impart, Their tail the rudder, and their head the prow.

Like pilgrims to th' appointed place we tend; The World's an Inn, and Death the journey's end.

Love is a child that talks in broken language, yet then he speaks most plain.

Imitators are but a servile kind of cattle.

Discover the opinion of your enemies, which is commonly the truest; for they will give you no quarter, and allow nothing to complaisance.

Secret guilt by silence is betrayed.

The fool of nature stood with stupid eyes And gaping mouth, that testified surprise.

Uncertain whose the narrowest span,--the clown unread, or half-read gentleman.

Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?

The propriety of thoughts and words, which are the hidden beauties of a play, are but confusedly judged in the vehemence of action.

To breed up the son to common sense is evermore the parent's least expense.

The soft complaining flute, In dying notes, discovers The woes of hopeless lovers.

The unhappy man, who once has trail'd a pen, Lives not to please himself, but other men; Is always drudging, wastes his life and blood, Yet only eats and drinks what you think good.

Railing in other men may be a crime, But ought to pass for mere instinct in him: Instinct he follows and no further knows, For to write verse with him is to transprose.

Humility and resignation are our prime virtues.

Imitation pleases, because it affords matter for inquiring into the truth or falsehood of imitation, by comparing its likeness or unlikeness with the original.

The province of the soul is large enough to fill up every cranny of your time, and leave you much to answer for if one wretch be damned by your neglect.

With how much ease believe we what we wish!

It's a hard world, neighbors, if a man's oath must be his master.

I maintain, against the enemies of the stage, that patterns of piety, decently represented, may second the precepts.

When bounteous autumn rears her head, he joys to pull the ripened pear.

A coward is the kindest animal; 'Tis the most forgiving creature in a fight.

The blushing beauties of a modest maid.

And he, who servilely creeps after sense, Is safe, but ne'er will reach an excellence.

Wit will shine Through the harsh cadence of a rugged line.

All habits gather by unseen degrees.

He with a graceful pride, While his rider every hand survey'd, Sprung loose, and flew into an escapade; Not moving forward, yet with every bound Pressing, and seeming still to quit his ground.

Nature meant me A wife, a silly, harmless, household dove, Fond without art, and kind without deceit.