Robert Burton


English Clergyman, Writer and Scholar at Oxford University

Author Quotes

One was never married and that's his hell; another is, and that's his plague

There is something in a woman beyond all human delight; a magnetic virtue, a charming quality, an occult and powerful motive.

We love neither God nor our neighbor as we should. Our love in spiritual things is too defective, in worldly things too excessive, there is a jar in both. We love the world too much; God too little; our neighbor not at all, or for our own ends.

Our conscience, which is a great ledger book, wherein are written all our offenses... grinds our souls with the remembrance of some precedent sins, makes us reflect upon, accuse and condemn ourselves.

They are proud in humility, proud in that they are not proud.

Were it not that they are loath to lay out money on a rope, they would be hanged forthwith, and sometimes die to save charges.

Rob Peter, and pay Paul.

They do not live but linger.

We've got to have something in place.

Scoffs, calumnies, and jests are frequently the causes of melancholy. It is said that ?a blow with a word strikes deeper than a blow with a sword;? and certainly there are many men whose feelings are more galled by a calumny, a bitter jest, a libel, a pasquil, a squib, a satire, or an epigram, than by any misfortune whatsoever.

They lard their lean books with the fat of others' works

What cannot be cured must be endured.

See one promontory (said Socrates of old), one mountain, one sea, one river, and see all.

This spring has been great for Kmart and other retailers. Hopefully, the consumer will continue to come out, the weather will continue to remain warm and we will go right into summer without missing a step.

What is a ship but a prison?

Seneca thinks the gods are well pleased when they see great men contending with adversity.

Those impious epicures, libertines, atheists, hypocrites, infidels, worldly, secure, impenitent, unthankful, and carnal-minded men, that attribute all to natural causes, that will acknowledge no supreme power; that have cauterized consciences, or live in a reprobate sense; or such desperate persons as are too distrustful of his mercies.

What physic, what chirurgery, what wealth, favor, authority can relieve, bear out, assuage, or expel a troubled conscience? A quiet mind cureth all them, but all they cannot comfort a distressed soul: who can put to silence the voice of desperation?

Smile with an intent to do mischief, or cozen him whom he salutes.

Thou canst not think worse of me than I do of myself.

When I lie waking all alone, recounting what I have ill done, my thoughts on me then tyrannize, fear and sorrow me surprise, whether I tarry still or go, methinks the time moves very slow, all my griefs to this are jolly, naught so sad as melancholy. 'Tis my sole plague to be alone, I am a beast, a monster grown, I will no light nor company, I find it now my misery. The scene is turn'd, my joys are gone, fear, discontent, and sorrows come. All my griefs to this are folly, naught so fierce as melancholy.

That is not long a-doing.

Though it rain daggers with their points downward.

Where God hath a temple, the Devil will have a chapel

That which is a law today is none tomorrow

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English Clergyman, Writer and Scholar at Oxford University