Quotes from Edmund Waller

Stronger by weakness, wiser men become.

Lampoons, like squibs, may make a present blaze; but time and thunder pay respect to bays.

Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.

The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made.

Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, That stand upon the threshold of the new.

The fear of hell, or aiming to be blest, savors too much of private interest.

Could we forbear dispute, and practise love, We should agree as angels do above.

To love is to believe, to hope, to know; 'Tis an essay, a taste of Heaven below!

Gods, that never change their state, vary oft their love and hate.

How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair!

The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build, Her humble nest, lies silent in the field.

For all we know Of what the blessed do above Is, that they sing, and that they love. While I listen to thy Voice.

My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, Did all within this circle move!

While we converse with her, we mark No want of day, nor think it dark.

And as pale sickness does invade, Your frailer part, the breaches made, In that fair lodging still more clear, Make the bright guest, your soul, appear.

Ingenious to their ruin, every age improves the art and instruments of rage.

With wisdom fraught; not such as books, but such as practice taught.

Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, And every conqueror creates a muse.

His love at once and dread instruct our thought; As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.

Others may use the ocean as their road; Only the English make it their abode.

Vexed sailors cursed the rain, for which poor shepherds prayed in vain.

All human things Of dearest value hang on slender strings.

Under the tropic is our language spoke, And part of Flanders hath receiv'd our yoke.

Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired.