A Quote by Edward Young

The love of praise, howe'er conceal'd by art, Reigns more or less, and glows in ev'ry heart. — © Edward Young
The love of praise, howe'er conceal'd by art, Reigns more or less, and glows in ev'ry heart.
"With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part, Say, what can Chloe want?"-She wants a heart.
Let Joy or Ease, let Affluence or Content, And the gay Conscience of a life well spent, Calm ev'ry thought, inspirit ev'ry grace, Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face.
A prison! heav'ns, I loath the hated name, Famine's metropolis, the sink of shame, A nauseous sepulchre, whose craving womb Hourly inters poor mortals in its tomb; By ev'ry plague and ev'ry ill possess'd, Ev'n purgatory itself to thee 's a jest.
Once at a potent leader's voice I stayed; Once I went back when a good monarch prayed; Mortals, howe'er we grieve, howe'er deplore, The flying shadow will return no more.
How fair doth Nature Appear again! How bright the sunbeams! How smiles the plain! The flow'rs are bursting From ev'ry bough, And thousand voices Each bush yields now. And joy and gladness Fill ev'ry breast! Oh earth!-oh sunlight! Oh rapture blest! Oh love! oh loved one!
Poets like painters, thus unskilled to trace The naked nature and the living grace, With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part, And hide with ornaments their want of art. True wit is Nature to advantage dressed, What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.
Ev'ry heart beats true 'neath the Red, White and Blue
The key to a better life: Complain less, appreciate more. Whine less, laugh more. Talk less, listen more. Want less, give more. Hate less, love more. Scold less, praise more. Fear less, hope more.
Hail, gentle Dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail!Rejoic'd I see thy purple mantle spreadO'er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way,And orient pearls from ev'ry shrub depend.
Still follow sense, of ev'ry art the soul, Parts answering parts shall slide into a whole.
I've lived a life that's full, I traveled each and ev'ry highway, And more, much more than this, I did it my way.
Whate'er the talents, or howe'er designed, We hang one jingling padlock on the mind.
Desponding Phyllis was endu'd With ev'ry Talent of a Prude, She trembled when a Man drew near; Salute her, and she turn'd her Ear: If o'er against her you were plac'd She durst not look above your Waist
A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age.
And reputation bleeds in ev'ry word.
At ev'ry word a reputation dies.
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