Abraham Cowley Quotes

Life is an incurable disease.

For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.

Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.

Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.

I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that ... I might be master at last of a small house and a large garden, with very moderate conveniences joined to them, and there dedicate the remainder of my life to the culture of them and the study of nature.

Build yourself a book-nest to forget the world without.

Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.

I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them; I have lived today.

To-day is ours; what do we fear? To-day is ours; we have it here. Let's treat it kindly, that it may Wish, at least, with us to stay. Let's banish business, banish sorrow; To the gods belong to-morrow.

Gold begets in brethren hate; Gold in families debate; Gold does friendship separate; Gold does civil wars create.

A mighty pain to love it is, And 'tis a pain that pain to miss; But, of all pains, the greatest pain Is to love, but love in vain.

Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise As praises from the men, whom all men praise.

May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, And many books, both true.

The liberty of a people consists in being governed by laws which they have made themselves, under whatsoever form it be of government; the liberty of a private man, in being master of his own time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of his country.

Man is too near all kinds of beasts,--a fawning dog, a roaring lion, a thieving fox, a robbing wolf, a dissembling crocodile, a treacherous decoy, and a rapacious vulture.

Unbind the charms that in slight fables lie and teach that truth is truest poesy.

Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.

The getting out of doors is the greatest part of the journey.

Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.

Why dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit, Or what is worse, be left by it? Why dost thou load thyself when thou 'rt to fly, Oh, man! ordain'd to die? Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high, Thou who art under ground to lie? Thou sow'st and plantest, but no fruit must see, For death, alas! is reaping thee.

God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.

Enjoy the present hour, Be thankful for the past, And neither fear nor wish Th' approaches of the last.

Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.

Thus would I double my life's fading space;For he that runs it well, runs twice his race.

Stones of small worth may lie unseen by day, But night itself does the rich gem betray.