A Quote by Philip Massinger

Factions among yourselves; preferring such To offices and honors, as ne'er read The elements of saving policy; But deeply skilled in all the principles That usher to destruction.
Such night in England ne'er had been, nor ne'er again shall be.
Alas! the praise given to the ear Ne'er was nor ne'er can be sincere.
I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip But where my own did hope to sip.
Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.
Wouldst thou wisely, and with pleasure, Pass the days of life's short measure, From the slow one counsel take, But a tool of him ne'er make; Ne'er as friend the swift one know, Nor the constant one as foe.
Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace.
And better had they ne'er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.
Tis strange the miser should his cares employTo gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy;Is it less strange the prodigal should wasteHis wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste?
Romances I ne'er read like those I have seen.
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.
Unfortunately, we have to dial down low-skilled immigration. We have to recognize that there is more unemployment among the lesser-skilled workers than among the most-skilled workers.
The Book of Books Within this ample volume lies The mystery of mysteries. Happiest they of human race To whom their God has given grace To read, to fear, to hope, to pray, To lift the latch, to force the way; But better had they ne'er been born That read to doubt or read to scorn.
But there are wanderers o'er Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be.
Fro and to in my dreams to you To the haunting tune of the harp For the price I paid when you died that day I paid that day with my heart Fro and to in my dreams to you With the breaking of my heart Ne'er more again will I sing this song Ne'er more will I hear the harp.
'Tis an old tale, and often told; But did my fate and wish agree, Ne'er had been read, in story old, Of maiden true betray'd for gold, That loved, or was avenged, like me!
Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
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