Over 40,000 Famous Quotes Sorted By Topic and Author

Conscience is thoroughly well-bred and soon leaves off talking to those who do not wish to hear it.

He was in Logic, a great critic, Profoundly skill'd in Analytic; He could distinguish, and divide A hair 'twixt south and south-west side.

For now the field is not far off Where we must give the world a proof Of deeds, not words.

And bid the devil take the hin'most.

Nick Machiavel had ne'er a trick .

Have always been at daggers-drawing, And one another clapper-clawing.

For his religion, it was fit To match his learning and his wit; 'Twas Presbyterian true blue; For he was of that stubborn crew Of errant saints, whom all men grant To be the true Church Militant; Such as do build their faith upon The holy text of pike and gun; Decide all controversies by Infallible artillery; And prove their doctrine orthodox, By Apostolic blows and knocks.

What makes all doctrines plain and clear?-- About two hundred pounds a year. And that which was prov'd true before Prove false again? Two hundred more.

The greatest pleasure of a dog is that you may -make a fool of yourself with him and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself too.

Evil is like water, it abounds, is cheap, soon fouls, but runs itself clear of taint.

He that is down can fall no lower.

Men do not stumble over mountains, but over molehills.

I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.

And as the French we conquer'd once, Now give us laws for pantaloons, The length of breeches and the gathers Port-cannons, periwigs, and feathers.

Success, the mark no mortal wit, Or surest hand, can always hit: For whatsoe'er we perpetrate, We do but row, we're steer'd by Fate, Which in success oft disinherits, For spurious causes, noblest merits.

Fear is an ague, that forsakes And haunts, by fits, those whom it takes; And they'll opine they feel the pain And blows they felt, to-day, again.

His fear was greater than his haste: For fear, though fleeter than the wind, Believes 'tis always left behind.

To swallow gudgeons ere they're catch'd. And count their chickens ere they're hatch'd.

He that complies against his will, Is of his own opinion still.

With mortal crisis doth portend, My days to appropinque an end.