Edward Young
Edward Young
Edward Youngwas an English poet, best remembered for Night-Thoughts...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth3 July 1683
heart bed death-bed
A death-bed's a detector of the heart.
heart blessing lists
Amid my list of blessings infinite, stands this the foremost, "that my heart has bled."
art heart reign
The love of praise, howe'er conceal'd by art, Reigns more or less, and glows in ev'ry heart.
heart home mind
The first sure symptom of a mind in health Is rest of heart and pleasure felt at home.
brother smart heart
Who, for the poor renown of being smart, Would leave a sting within a brother's heart?
heart sight heaven
Heaven's Sovereign saves all beings but himselfThat hideous sight,-a naked human heart.
splinters fame satire
Satire recoils whenever charged too high; round your own fame the fatal splinters fly.
cutting sound beam
Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume; The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves. Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound; When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam; Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still.
book years individuality
Born originals, how comes it to pass that we die copies? That meddling ape imitation, as soon as we come to years of indiscretion, (so let me speak,) snatches the pen, and blots out nature's mark of separation, cancels her kind intention, destroys all mental individuality. The lettered world no longer consists of singulars: it is a medley, a mass; and a hundred books, at bottom, are but one.
science deities evolution
Midway from Nothing to the Deity!
sweet reason instinct
Sweet instinct leaps; slow reason feebly climbs.
fall men pyramids
Pygmies are pygmies still, though percht on Alps; And pyramids are pyramids in vales. Each man makes his own stature, builds himself. Virtue alone outbuilds the Pyramids; Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall.
inspirational sweet flow
On every thorn, delightful wisdom grows, In every rill a sweet instruction flows.
peace archer moon
Insatiate archer! could not one suffice? Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain; And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had filled her horn.