A Quote by John Armstrong

The boy may wrestle, when Night--working Fancy steals him to the arms Of nymph oft wish'd awake, and, 'mid the rage Of the soft tumult, ev'ry turgid cell Spontaneous disembogues its lucid store, Bland and of azure tinct.
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.
"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.
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!
What so pure, which envious tongues will spare? Some wicked wits have libell'd all the fair, With matchless impudence they style a wife, The dear-bought curse, and lawful plague of life; A bosom serpent, a domestic evil, A night invasion, and a mid-day devil; Let not the wise these sland'rous words regard, But curse the bones of ev'ry living bard.
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.
The approach of night The skies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade.
I discovered lots of music; electronic synth bands from the mid-'80s like Depeche Mode, Soft Cell and Cabaret Voltaire. My friends and I used to take two-hour trips to the record store in Newcastle and we started buying copies of The Face and i-D. And then I went to art school and as time progressed, I ended up where I am now.
He who steals a little steals with the same wish as he who steals much, but with less power.
A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age.
And reputation bleeds in ev'ry word.
At ev'ry word a reputation dies.
Who wants to be a millionaire? And go to ev'ry swell affair?
Ev'ry heart beats true 'neath the Red, White and Blue
Don't ye know that ev'ry Soul on Earth feels itself to be an Orphan?
But just disease to luxury succeeds, And ev'ry death its own avenger breeds.
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