Tis chiefly taste, or blunt, or gross, or fine, Makes life insipid, bestial, or divine. Better be born with taste to little rent Than the dull monarch of a continent; Without this bounty which the gods bestow, Can Fortune make… — John Armstrong Copy Share Image
For wisest ends this universal Power Gave appetites, from whose quick impulse life Subsists, by which we only live, all life Insipid else, unactive, unenjoy'd. Hence to this peopled earth, which, that extinct, That flame for propagation, soon would roll… — John Armstrong Copy Share Image
Ye youths and virgins, when your generous blood Has drunk the warmth of fifteen summers, now The loves invite; now to new rapture wakes… — John Armstrong Copy Share Image
Virtue and sense are one; and, trust me, still A faithless heart betrays the head unsound. — John Armstrong Copy Share Image
He knows enough, the mariner, who knows Where lurk the shelves, and where the whirlpools boil, What signs portend the storm: to subtler minds… — John Armstrong Copy Share Image
“But mostly what we think of as the 'meaning' of life concerns the style of the private autobiography we each write and which records… — John Armstrong Copy Share Image
We know great Nature's pow'r, Mother of things, whose vast unbounded sway From the deep centre all around extends Wide to the flaming barriers… — John Armstrong Copy Share Image
Much had he read, Much more had he seen; he studied from the life, And in th' original perus'd mankind. — John Armstrong Copy Share Image
Our greatest good, and what we least can spare, Is hope: the last of all our evils, fear. — John Armstrong Copy Share Image
Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul, Is the best gift of Heaven: a happiness That even above the smiles and frowns of… — John Armstrong Copy Share Image
