Quotes
Quotes about Praise
Let still the woman take
An elder than herself: so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart:
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn,
Than women's are.
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones.
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise and true perfection!
To write a verse or two is all the praise
That I can raise.
Poets lose half the praise they should have got,
Could it be known what they discreetly blot.
Of whom to be disprais'd were no small praise.
Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail
Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt,
Dispraise, or blame,--nothing but well and fair,
And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat.
But whither am I strayed? I need not raise
Trophies to thee from other men's dispraise;
Nor is thy fame on lesser ruins built;
Nor needs thy juster title the foul guilt
Of Eastern kings, who, to secure their reign,
Must have their brothers, sons, and kindred slain.
Our vows are heard betimes! and Heaven takes care
To grant, before we can conclude the prayer:
Preventing angels met it half the way,
And sent us back to praise, who came to pray.
Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!
Praise Him, all creatures here below!
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host!
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
And those that paint them truest praise them most.
From all who dwell below the skies
Let the Creator's praise arise;
Let the Redeemer's name be sung
Through every land, by every tongue.
To God the Father, God the Son,
And God the Spirit, Three in One,
Be honour, praise, and glory given
By all on earth, and all in heaven.
Remote from man, with God he passed the days;
Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.
The love of praise, howe'er conceal'd by art,
Reigns more or less, and glows in ev'ry heart.
Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering teach the rest to sneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike.
Praise undeserv'd is scandal in disguise.
Poetic Justice, with her lifted scale,
Where in nice balance truth with gold she weighs,
And solid pudding against empty praise.
Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe,
Are lost on hearers that our merits know.
Base wealth preferring to eternal praise.
Few sons attain the praise
Of their great sires, and most their sires disgrace.
Come then, expressive silence, muse His praise.
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault,
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Good people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word
From those who spoke her praise.
