Quotes from William Congreve

I am a fool, I know it; and yet, Heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit.

There is in true Beauty, as in Courage, somewhat which narrow Souls cannot dare to admire.

Women like flames have a destroying power; never to be quenched till they themselves devour.

It is the business of a comic poet to paint the vices and follies of human kind.

They come together like the Coroner's Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.

Beauty is the lover's gift.

I am always of the opinion with the learned, if they speak first.

I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull.

They are at the end of the gallery; retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom.

Thus in this sad, but oh, too pleasing state! my soul can fix upon nothing but thee; thee it contemplates, admires, adores, nay depends on, trusts on you alone.

A little disdain is not amiss; a little scorn is alluring.

Every man plays the fool once in his live, but to marry is playing the fool all one's life long.

Wit must be foiled by wit: cut a diamond with a diamond.

A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, In hopes, through many, to make sure of one.

You are a woman: you must never speak what you think; your words must contradict your thoughts, but your actions may contradict your words.

I confess freely to you, I could never look long upon a monkey, without very mortifying reflections.

Love's but the frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined; A sickly flame, which if not fed expires; And feeding, wastes in self-consuming fires.

No, I'm no enemy to learning; it hurts not me.

Guilt is ever at a loss, and confusion waits upon it; when innocence and bold truth are always ready for expression.

To find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his own eye, nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a very hard task.

Words are the weak support of cold indifference; love has no language to be heard.

Love's but a frailty of the mind, When 'tis not with ambition joined.

Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned.