Quotes by Abraham Cowley
Quotes 1 till 15 of 56.
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A mighty pain to love it is,
And 't is a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.Source: From Anacreon, vii. Gold; reported in Bartletts Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). -
Ah! wretched and too solitary he who loves not his own company!
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Ah, yet, e'er I descend to th' grave, May I a small House and a large Garden have. And a few Friends, and many Books both true, Both wise, and both delightful too. And since Love ne'er will from me flee, A mistress moderately fair, And good as Guardian angels are, Only belov'd and loving me.
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All the world's bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.
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All this world's noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!
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An harmless flaming meteor shone for hair,
And fell adown his shoulders with loose care.Source: Davideis, book ii, line 95. Compare: Loose his beard and hoary hair / Streamd like a meteor to the troubled air, Thomas Gray, The Bard, i. 2. -
As for being much known by sight, and pointed out, I cannot comprehend the honor that lies withal; whatsoever it be, every mountebank has it more than the best doctor.
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Begin, be bold, and venture to be wise, He who defers this work from day to day, Does on a river's bank expecting stay, Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone, That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.
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Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
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Enjoy the present hour, be thankful for the past, And neither fear nor wish th' approaches of the last.
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Fill all the glasses there, for why
Should every creature drink but I?
Why, man of morals, tell me why?Source: From Anacreon, ii. Drinking; reported in Bartletts Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). -
Fond archer, Hope! who tak'st thy aim so far,
That still or short, or wide thine arrows are!Source: Against Hope. -
For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
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Gold begets in brethren hate; Gold in families debate; Gold does friendship separate; Gold does civil wars create.
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Happy insect! what can be In happiness compared to thee? Fed with nourishment divine, The dewy morning's gentle wine! Nature waits upon thee still, And thy verdant cup does fill; 'Tis fill'd wherever thou dost tread, Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
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