Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
[Gulliver was soon being read] "from the cabinet council to the nursery".
Tell me and I forget. Show me and I remember. Involve me and I understand.
Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil?
By outward show let's not be cheated; An ass should like an ass be treated.
From kings to cobblers 'tis the same; Bad servants wound their masters' fame.
O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed, by keeping men off, you keep them on.
Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.
The comfortable estate of widowhood is the only hope that keeps up a wife's spirits.
'T is woman that seduces all mankind; By her we first were taught the wheedling arts.
To cheat a man isnothing; but the womanmust have fine parts indeed who cheats a woman!
If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, The mist is dispelled when a woman appears.
One wife is too much for most husbands to bear, But two at a time there's no mortal can bear.
Fill it up. I take as large draughts of liquor as I did of love. I hate a flincher in either.
So comes a reck'ning when the banquet's o'er, The dreadful reckn'ning, and men smile no more.
Here Shock, the pride of all his kind, is laid, Who fawned like man, but ne'er like man betrayed.
Envy's a sharper spur than pay: No author ever spar'd a brother; Wits are gamecocks to one another.
But his kiss was so sweet, and so closely he pressed, that I languished and pined till I granted the rest.
Gamesters and highwaymen are generally very good to their whores, but they are very devils to their wives.
Music might tame and civilize wild beasts, but 'tis evident it never yet could tame and civilize musicians.
Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined.
Do you think your mother and I should have lived comfortably so long together, if ever we had been married? Baggage!
But money, wife, is the true Fuller's Earth for reputations, there is not a spot or a stain but what it can take out.
My lodging is on the cold ground, And hard, very hard, is my fare, But that which grieves me more Is the coldness of my dear.
Shall ignorance of good and ill Dare to direct the eternal will? Seek virtue, and of that possest, To Providence resign the rest.
What then in love can woman do? If we grow fond they shun us. And when we fly them, they pursue: But leave us when they've won us.
A Wolf eats sheep but now and then; Ten thousands are devour'd by men. An open foe may prove a curse, but a pretend friend is worse.
A rich rogue nowadays is fit company for any gentleman; and the world, my dear, hath not such a contempt for roguery as you imagine.
I never, with important air, In conversation overbear. . . . . My tongue within my lips I rein; For who talks much must talk in vain.
Were I laid on Greenland's Coast, And in my Arms embrac'd my Lass; Warm amidst eternal Frost, Too soon the Half Year's Night would pass.
Whoever heard a man of fortune in England talk of the necessaries of life? . . . Whether we can afford it or no, we must have superfluities.
Look round, the wrecks of play behold; Estates dismember'd, mortgaged, sold! Their owners now to jails confin'd, Show equal poverty of mind.
Is there no hope? the sick man said, The silent doctor shook his head, And took his leave with signs of sorrow, Despairing of his fee to-morrow.
Woman's mind Oft' shifts her passions, like th'inconstant wind; Sudden she rages, like the troubled main, Now sinks the storm, and all is calm again.
Who hath not heard the rich complain Of surfeits, and corporeal pain? He barr'd from every use of wealth, Envies the ploughman's strength and health.
Nor love, not honor, wealth nor power, can give the heart a cheerful hour when health is lost. Be timely wise; With health all taste of pleasure flies.
Fill ev'ry glass, for wine inspires us, And fires us With courage, love and joy. Women and wine should life employ. Is there ought else on earth desirous?
The charge is prepared; the lawyers are met; The judges all ranged (a terrible show!) I go, undismay'd. For death is a debt, A debt on demand. So take what I owe.
What happiness the rural maid attends, In cheerful labour while each day she spends! She gratefully receives what Heav'n has sent, And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.
The sun was set; the night came on apace, And falling dews bewet around the place; The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, And the hoarse owl his woeful dirges sings.
Variety's the source of joy below, From whence still fresh-revolving pleasures flow, In books and love the mind one end pursues, And only change the expiring flames renews.
Of all mechanics, of all servile handycrafts-men, a gamester is the vilest. But yet, as many of the quality are of the profession, he is admitted amongst the politest company.
Why is the hearse with scutcheons blazon'd round, And with the nodding plume of ostrich crown'd? No; the dead know it not, nor profit gain; It only serves to prove the living vain.
If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, The mist is dispell'd when a woman appears; Like the notes of a fiddle, she sweetly, sweetly Raises the spirits, and charms our ears.
Can you support the expense of a husband, hussy, in gaming, drinking and whoring? Have you money enough to carry on the daily quarrels of man and wife about who shall squander most?
The careful insect 'midst his works I view, Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew, With golden treasures load his little thighs, And steer his distant journey through the skies.
Some folks of cider make a rout And cider's well enough no doubt When better liquors fail; But wine, that's richer, better still, Ev'n wine itself (deny't who will) Must yield to nappy ale
What will not luxury taste? Earth, sea, and air, Are daily ransack'd for the bill of fare. Blood stuffed in skins is British Christians' food, And France robs marshes of the croaking brood.
Lions, wolves, and vultures don't live together in herds, droves or flocks. Of all animals of prey, man is the only sociable one. Every one of us preys upon his neighbor, and yet we herd together.
I cannot raise my worth too high; Of what vast consequence am I! "Not of the importance you suppose," Replies a Flea upon his nose; "Be humble, learn thyself to scan; Know, pride was never made for man.
I hate the man who builds his name On ruins of another's fame. Thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown, Imagine that they raise their own. Thus Scribblers, covetous of praise, Think slander can transplant the bays.