Edward Young

Time destroyed Is suicide, where more than blood is spilt.

— Edward Young

A strange alternative * * *Must women have a doctor or a dance?

— Edward Young

A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.

— Edward Young

Ah, how unjust to Nature and himself Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man!

— Edward Young

As soon as we have found the key of life, it opens the gates of death.

— Edward Young

The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.

— Edward Young

Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, United jar, and yet are loth to part.

— Edward Young

The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done.

— Edward Young

Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment…

— Edward Young

Pygmies are pygmies still, though percht on Alps; And pyramids are pyramids in vales. Each man makes his own stature, builds himself.…

— Edward Young

One to destroy, is murder by the law; and gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe; to murder thousands, takes a specious…

— Edward Young

The man who consecrates his hours by vigorous effort, and an honest aim, at once he draws the sting of life and…

— Edward Young

What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire on mankind; And while it satisfies, it censures too.

— Edward Young

Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes.

— Edward Young

What is revenge but courage to call in our honor's debts, and wisdom to convert others' self-love into our own protection?

— Edward Young

Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. That only, and that amply…

— Edward Young

The blood will follow where the knife is driven, The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.

— Edward Young

The weak have remedies, the wise have joys; superior wisdom is superior bliss.

— Edward Young

And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?

— Edward Young

The bell strikes one. We take no note of time But from its loss.

— Edward Young

Day buries day; month, month; and year the year: Our life is but a chain of many deaths.

— Edward Young

Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.

— Edward Young

It is great and manly to disdain disguise; it shows our spirit and proves our strength.

— Edward Young

We are not all great because we are inspired, but we feel great because we are.

— Edward Young

“The first sure symptom of a mind in health Is rest of heart and pleasure felt at home.”

— Edward Young

Polite diseases make some idiots vain, Which, if unfortunately well, they feign.

— Edward Young

Thoughts shut up want air, And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.

— Edward Young

Our birth is nothing but our death begun; As tapers waste, that instant they take fire.

— Edward Young

Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, "That all men are about to live."

— Edward Young

Distinguisht Link in Being's endless Chain! Midway from Nothing to the Deity!

— Edward Young

Narcissus is the glory of his race: For who does nothing with a better grace?.

— Edward Young

Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled.

— Edward Young

Death! great proprietor of all! 'tis thine To tread out empire, and to quench the stars.

— Edward Young

Wouldst thou be famed? have those high acts in view, Brave men would act though scandal would ensue.

— Edward Young

We wish our names eternally to live; Wild dream! which ne'er had haunted human thought, Had not our natures been eternal too.

— Edward Young

How science dwindles, and how volumes swell, How commentators each dark passage shun, And hold their farthing candle to the sun!

— Edward Young

Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed: Who does the best his circumstance allows Does well, acts nobly; angels could no…

— Edward Young

I've known my lady (for she loves a tune) For fevers take an opera in June: And, though perhaps you'll think the…

— Edward Young