Yet, sluggard, wake, and gull thy soul no more With earth's false pleasures, and the world's delight, Whose fruit is fair and pleasing to the sight, But sour in taste, false as the putrid core: Thy flaring glass is gems… — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
Of all vices take heed of drunkenness; other vices are but fruits of disordered affections--this disorders, nay, banishes reason; other vices but impair the soul--this demolishes her two chief faculties, the understanding and the will; other vices make their own… — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
Be neither too early in the fashion, nor too long out of it, nor too precisely in it; what custom hath civilized is become… — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
The World's a Printing-House, our words, our thoughts, Our deeds, are characters of several sizes. Each soul is a Compos'tor, of whose faults The… — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
Luxury is an enticing pleasure, a bastard mirth, which hath honey in her mouth, gall in her heart, and a sting in her tail. — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
Deliberate long before thou consecrate a friend, and when thy impartial justice concludes him worthy of thy bosom, receive him joyfully, and entertain him… — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
What treasures here do Mammon's sons behold! Yet know that all that which glitters is not gold. — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
Meditation is the life of the soul: Action, the soul of meditation; and honor the reward of action. — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
The world is deceitful; her end is doubtful, her conclusion is horrible, her judge terrible, and her judgment is intolerable. — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
I wish thee as much pleasure in the reading, as I had in the writing. — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
The suburbs of folly is vain mirth, and profuseness of laughter is the city of fools. — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
The fountain of beauty is the heart and every generous thought illustrates the walls of your chamber. — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
The strong desires of man's insatiate breast may stand possess'd Of all that earth can give; but earth can give no rest. — Francis Quarles Copy Share Image
