Great Throughts Treasury

"What ardently we wish, we soon believe."

"What day, what hour, but knocks at human hearts, to wake the soul to sense of future scenes? Deaths stand like Mercurys, in every way, and kindly point us to our journey's end."

"What folly can be ranker. Like our shadows, Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines."

"What is a miracle? ?'Tis a reproach, 'tis an implicit satire on mankind; And while it satisfies, it censures too."

"What is revenge but courage to call in our honor's debts, and wisdom to convert others' self-love into our own protection?"

"What is station high? 'Tis a proud mendicant; it boasts, and begs; it begs an alms of homage from the throng, and oft the throng denies its charity."

"What is this world? thy school, O Misery!"

"What most we wish, with ease we fancy near."

"What so foolish as the chase of fame? How vain the prize! how impotent our aim! For what are men who grasp at praise sublime, but bubbles on the rapid stream of time, that rise and fall, that swell, and are no more, born and forgot, ten thousand in an hour."

"What tender force, what dignity divine, what virtue consecrating every feature; around that neck what dross are gold and pearl!"

"What we ardently wish we soon believe."

"Whate'er th' Almighty's subsequent command, His first command is this - "Man, love thyself.""

"What's true beauty but fair virtue's face,--virtue made visible in outward grace."

"When men of infamy to grandeur soar, they light a torch to show their shame the more, those governments which curb not evils, cause! And a rich knave's a libel on our laws."

"When men once reach their autumn, sickly joys fall off apace, as yellow leaves from trees."

"When pain can't bless, heaven quits us in despair."

"When reason, like the skillful charioteer, can break the fiery passions to the bit, and, spite of their licentious sallies, keep the radiant tract of glory; passions, then, are aids and ornaments. Triumphant reason, firm in her seat, and swift in her career, enjoys their violence, and, smiling, thanks their formidable flame, for bright renown."

"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."

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

"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."

"When women sue, they sue to be denied."

"Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft, Each other's pillow to repose divine."

"Where is the dust that has not been alive? - The spade and the plough disturb our ancestors. - From human mold we reap our daily bread."

"Where Nature's end of language is declin'd, and men talk only to conceal the mind."

"Where, where for shelter shall the guilty fly, when consternation turns the good man pale?"

"Who borrow much, then fairly make it known, and damn it with improvements of their own."

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

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

"When the Law shows her teeth, but dares not bite."

"When tir'd with vain rotations of the day, sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn."

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

"Who knows if Shakespeare might not have thought less if he had read more?"

"Who never loved ne'er suffered; he feels nothing, who nothing feels but for himself alone."

"Who rounded in his palm these spacious orbs? Numerous as glittering gems of morning dew, or sparks from populous cities in a blaze, and set the bosom of old night on fire."

"Who would not give a trifle to prevent what he would give a thousand worlds to cure?"

"Who, for the poor renown of being smart, would leave a sting within a brother's heart?"

"Whose yesterdays look backwards with a smile."

"Why all this toil for the triumphs of an hour?"

"Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour? What tho' we wade in Wealth, or soar in Fame? Earth's highest station ends in 'Here he lies;' and 'Dust to dust' concludes the noblest songs."

"Why wish for more? Wishing of all employments is the worst."

"Will no superior genius snatch the quill, and save me on the brink from writing ill?"

"Wisdom is rare, Lorenzo! Wit abounds."

"Wisdom to gold prefer; for 'tis much less to make our fortune than our happiness."

"Wisdom, though richer than Peruvian mines, and sweeter than the sweet ambrosial hive, what is she, but the means of happiness? That unobtain'd, than folly more a fool."

"Wise it is to comprehend the whole."

"Wishing - the constant hectic of the fool."

"Wishing, of all employments, is the worst."

"Wit, how delicious to man's dainty taste! 'Tis precious, as the vehicle of sense; but, as its substitute, a dire disease; pernicious talent! flatter'd by the world, by the blind world, which thinks the talent rare. Wisdom is rare--wit abounds. Passion can give it; sometimes wine inspires the lucky flash, and madness rarely fails."

"With skill she vibrates her eternal tongue, forever most divinely in the wrong."

"With fame, in just proportion, envy grows."