Quotes
Quotes about Man
Many a dangerous temptation comes to us in fine gay colours that are but skin-deep.
Here is bread, which strengthens man's heart, and therefore called the staff of life.
It is a maxim with me that no man was ever written out of reputation but by himself.
Go call a coach, and let a coach be called;
And let the man who calleth be the caller;
And in his calling let him nothing call
But "Coach! Coach! Coach! Oh for a coach, ye gods!"
To treat a poor wretch with a bottle of Burgundy, and fill his snuff-box, is like giving a pair of laced ruffles to a man that has never a shirt on his back.
In the reign of Charles II. a certain worthy divine at Whitehall thus addressed himself to the auditory at the conclusion of his sermon: "In short, if you don't live up to the precepts of the Gospel, but abandon yourselves to your irregular appetites, you must expect to receive your reward in a certain place which 't is not good manners to mention here."
And he gave it for his opinion, that whoever could make two ears of corn, or two blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and do more essential service to his country, than the whole race of politicians put together.
Censure is the tax a man pays to the public for being eminent.
A nice man is a man of nasty ideas.
He was a bold man that first eat an oyster.
The best doctors in the world are Doctor Diet, Doctor Quiet, and Doctor Merryman.
Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned,
Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.
We shall find no fiend in hell can match the fury of a disappointed woman,--scorned, slighted, dismissed without a parting pang.
Though her mien carries much more invitation than command, to behold her is an immediate check to loose behaviour; to love her was a liberal education.
'T is not in mortals to command success,
But we 'll do more, Sempronius,--we 'll deserve it.
'T's pride, rank pride, and haughtiness of soul;
I think the Romans call it stoicism.
My voice is still for war.
Gods! can a Roman senate long debate
Which of the two to choose, slavery or death?
The woman that deliberates is lost.
It must be so,--Plato, thou reasonest well!
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after immortality?
Or whence this secret dread and inward horror
Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?
'T is the divinity that stirs within us;
'T is Heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to man.
Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought!
Sweet are the slumbers of the virtuous man.
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.
Whene'er I take my walks abroad,
How many poor I see!
What shall I render to my God
For all his gifts to me?
When I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,
I 'll bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.
Were I so tall to reach the pole,
Or grasp the ocean with my span,
I must be measured by my soul:
The mind's the standard of the man.
Still an angel appear to each lover beside,
But still be a woman to you.
