Quotes
Quotes - Cotton
If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies,
And they are fools who roam.
The world has nothing to bestow;
From our own selves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut, our home.
To be resign'd when ills betide,
Patient when favours are deni'd,
And pleas'd with favours given,--
Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part;
This is that incense of the heart
Whose fragrance smells to heaven.
Thus hand in hand through life we 'll go;
Its checker'd paths of joy and woe
With cautious steps we 'll tread.
Yet still we hug the dear deceit.
Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee.
Men will wrangle for religion, write for it, fight for it, die for it, anything but live for it.
Men will wrangle for religion, write for it, fight for it, die for it, anything but live for it.
Mental pleasure are never cloy; unlike those of the body, they are increased by repetition, approved by reflection, and strengthened by enjoyment.
We'll therefore relish with content, Whate'er kind providence has sent, Nor aim beyond our pow'r; For, if our stock be very small, 'Tis prudent to enjoy it all, Nor lose the present hour.
Democracy, I do not conceive that ever God did ordain as a fit government either for church or commonwealth. If the people be governors, who shall be governed?
If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies, And they are fools who roam; The world has nothing to bestow, From our own selves our bliss must flow, And that dear hut,--our home.
If you pinch the sea of its liberty, though it be walls of stone or brass, it will beat them down.
The big trick in putting is not method the secret of putting is domination of the nerves.
I stew all night in my own grease.
Mental pleasure are never cloy; unlike those of the body, they are increased by repetition, approved by reflection, and strengthened by enjoyment.
To-morrow, didst thou say? Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow! Go to--I will not hear it. To-morrow! 'Tis a sharper--who stakes his penury Against thy plenty--takes thy ready cash, And pays thee naught but wishes, hopes, and promises, The currency of idiots--injurious bankrupt, That gulls the easy creditor!
