Over 40,000 Famous Quotes Sorted By Topic and Author

Those who in quarrels interpose, Must often wipe a bloody nose.

That Raven on yon left-hand oak Bodes me no good.

A lost good name is ne'er retriev'd.

So comes a reck'ning when the banquet's o'er, The dreadful reckn'ning, and men smile no more.

Thus shadow owes its birth to light.

I hate the man who builds his name On ruins of another's fame.

I hate the man who builds his name on the ruins of another's fame.

Let firm, well hammer'd soles protect thy feet Through freezing snows, and rains, and soaking sleet; Should the big last extend the shoe too wide, Each stone will wrench the unwary step aside; The sudden turn may stretch the swelling vein, The cracking joint unhinge, or ankle sprain; And when too short the modish shoes are worn, You'll judge the seasons by your shooting corn.

Studious of elegance and ease.

For he as studious--of his ease.

My tongue within my lips I rein: For who talks much must talk in vain.

Good housewives all the winter's rage despise, Defended by the riding-hood's disguise; Or, underneath the umbrella's oily shade, Safe through the wet on clinking pattens tread, Let Persian dames the unbrella's ribs display, To guard their beauties from the sunny ray; Or sweating slaves support the shady load, When eastern monarchs show their state abroad; Britain in winter only knows its aid, To guard from chilling showers the walking maid.

Why is the hearse with scutcheons blazon'd round, And with the nodding plume of ostrich crown'd? No; the dead know it not, nor profit gain; It only serves to prove the living vain.

Good housewives all the winter's rage despise, Defended by the riding-hood's disguise; Or, underneath the umbrella's oily shade, Safe through the wet on clinking pattens tread, Let Persian dames the unbrella's ribs display, To guard their beauties from the sunny ray; Or sweating slaves support the shady load, When eastern monarchs show their state abroad; Britain in winter only knows its aid, To guard from chilling showers the walking maid.

Why is the hearse with scutcheons blazon'd round, And with the nodding plume of ostrich crown'd? No; the dead know it not, nor profit gain; It only serves to prove the living vain.

How many saucy airs we meet, From Temple Bar to Aldgate street!

Variety's the source of joy below, From whence still fresh-revolving pleasures flow, In books and love the mind one end pursues, And only change the expiring flames renews.

No retreat. No retreat. They must conquer or die who've no retreat.

Who hath not heard the rich complain Of surfeits, and corporeal pain? He barr'd from every use of wealth, Envies the ploughman's strength and health.

From wine what sudden friendship springs?