Quotes from John Dryden

They, who would combat general authority with particular opinion, must first establish themselves a reputation of understanding better than other men.

The thought of being nothing after death is a burden insupportable to a virtuous man.

Lucky men are favorites of Heaven.

Desire of power, on earth a vicious weed, Yet, sprung from high, is of celestial seed: In God 'tisglory; and when men aspire, 'Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire.

The bravest men are subject most to chance.

Men's virtues I have commended as freely as I have taxed their crimes.

Virtue without success is a fair picture shown by an ill light; but lucky men are favorites of heaven; all own the chief, when fortune owns the cause.

Pleasure never comes sincere to man; but lent by heaven upon hard usury.

He who trusts a secret to his servant makes his own man his master.

The brave man seeks not popular applause, Nor, overpower'd with arms, deserts his cause; Unsham'd, though foil'd, he does the best he can, Force is of brutes, but honor is of man.

For danger levels man and brute And all are fellows in their need.

Men are but children of a larger growth.

The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme, The young men's vision, and the old men's dream!

The elephant is never won by anger; nor must that man who would reclaim a lion take him by the teeth.

I strongly wish for what I faintly hope; like the daydreams of melancholy men, I think and think in things impossible, yet love to wander in that golden maze.

So over violent, or over civil that every man with him was God or Devil.

Happy the man, and happy he alone, he, who can call today his own.

A brave man scorns to quarrel once a day; Like Hectors in at every petty fray.

For granting we have sinned, and that the offence Of man is made against Omnipotence, Some price that bears proportion must be paid, And infinite with infinite be weighed.

Fortune, that with malicious joyDoes man her slave oppress,Proud of her office to destroy,Is seldom pleasd to bless.

Heaven be thanked, we live in such an age, When no man dies for love, but on the stage.

Men met each other with erected look, The steps were higher that they took; Friends to congratulate their friends made haste, And long inveterate foes saluted as they pass'd.

Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child.

Moderate sorrow Fits vulgar love, and for a vulgar man: But I have lov'd with such transcendent passion, I soar'd, at first, quite out of reason's view, And now am lost above it.