Edward Young


English Poet best known for "Night Thoughts"

Author Quotes

Their feet through faithless leather met the dirt, and oftener chang'd their principles than shirt.

This sacred shade and solitude, what is it? It is the felt presence of the Deity. - Few are the faults we flatter when alone. - By night an atheist half believes a God.

'Tis great, 'tis manly, to disdain disguise; it shows our spirit, or it proves our strength.

Too low they build who build beneath the stars.

We rise in glory, as we sink in pride: where boasting ends, there dignity begins.

Whatever farce the boastful hero plays, Virtue alone has majesty in death.

Who can take Death's portrait? The tyrant never sat.

Wise it is to comprehend the whole.

Their methods various, but alike their aim; the sloven and the fopling are the same.

Those who build beneath the stars build too low.

'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours and ask them what report they bore to heaven, and how they might have borne more welcome news.

Triflers not even in trifles can excel.

We see time?s furrows on another?s brow, and death intrench?d, preparing his assault; how few themselves in that just mirror see!

Whatever other learning he wanted, he was master of two books unknown to many profound readers, though books which the last conflagration can alone destroy,--I mean the book of nature and that of man.

Who does the best his circumstances allows Does well, acts nobly; angels could do no more.

Wishing - the constant hectic of the fool.

Their various cares in one great point combine the business of their lives, that is--to dine.

Thou art so witty, profligate and thin, At once we think thee Satan, Death and Sin.

Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, the soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. That only, and that amply this performs.

True happiness ne'er entered at an eye; true happiness resides in things unseen.

We see time's furrows on another's brow? How few themselves in that just mirror see!

What's female beauty, but an air divine, through which the mind's all-gentle graces shine! They, like the Sun, irradiate all between; the body charms, because the soul is seen.

Who fails to grieve when just occasion calls, or grieves too much, deserves not to be blest: inhuman, or effeminate, his heart.

Wishing, of all employments, is the worst.

Then lady Cynthia, mistress of the shade, goes, with the fashionable owls, to bed.

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English Poet best known for "Night Thoughts"