Quotes
Quotes about Age
Genteel in personage,
Conduct, and equipage;
Noble by heritage,
Generous and free.
So geographers, in Afric maps,
With savage pictures fill their gaps,
And o'er unhabitable downs
Place elephants for want of towns.
The reason why so few marriages are happy is because young ladies spend their time in making nets, not in making cages.
Not die here in a rage, like a poisoned rat in a hole.
Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,
To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
Perish that thought! No, never be it said
That Fate itself could awe the soul of Richard.
Hence, babbling dreams! you threaten here in vain!
Conscience, avaunt! Richard's himself again!
Hark! the shrill trumpet sounds to horse! away!
My soul's in arms, and eager for the fray.
Will. Honeycomb calls these over-offended ladies the outrageously virtuous.
A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty
Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.
I 'm weary of conjectures,--this must end 'em.
Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me:
This in a moment brings me to an end;
But this informs me I shall never die.
The soul, secured in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years;
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,
The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds.
Unbounded courage and compassion join'd,
Tempering each other in the victor's mind,
Alternately proclaim him good and great,
And make the hero and the man complete.
Where Nature's end of language is declin'd,
And men talk only to conceal the mind.
And waste their music on the savage race.
For her own breakfast she 'll project a scheme,
Nor take her tea without a stratagem.
How commentators each dark passage shun,
And hold their farthing candle to the sun.
Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate,
All but the page prescrib'd, their present state.
Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law,
Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw;
Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight,
A little louder, but as empty quite;
Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage,
And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age.
Pleased with this bauble still, as that before,
Till tired he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er.
Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart.
One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas;
And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels
Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.
In parts superior what advantage lies?
Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise?
'T is but to know how little can be known;
To see all others' faults, and feel our own.
See how the world its veterans rewards!
A youth of frolics, an old age of cards.
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.
True wit is Nature to advantage dress'd,
What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd.
Me let the tender office long engage
To rock the cradle of reposing age;
With lenient arts extend a mother's breath,
Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death;
Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,
And keep awhile one parent from the sky.
For I, who hold sage Homer's rule the best,
Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.
Vain was the chief's the sage's pride!
They had no poet, and they died.
Or where the pictures for the page atone,
And Quarles is sav'd by beauties not his own.
