John Dryden Quotes About Fate
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What I have left is from my native spring; I've still a heart that swells, in scorn of fate, And lifts me to my banks.
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The Fates but only spin the coarser clue; The finest of the wool is left for you.
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An hour will come, with pleasure to relate Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate.
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Of no distemper, of no blast he died, But fell like autumn fruit that mellow'd long: Even wonder'd at, because he dropp'd no sooner. Fate seem'd to wind him up for fourscore years; Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more; Till like a clock worn out with eating time, The wheels of weary life at last stood still.
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Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace.
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Seek not to know what must not be reveal, for joy only flows where fate is most concealed. A busy person would find their sorrows much more; if future fortunes were known before!
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Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more; Fate was not mine, nor am I Fate's: Souls know no conquerors.
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When the Sun sets, shadows, that shew'd at Noon But small, appear most long and terrible; So, when we think Fate hovers o'er our Heads, Our apprehensions shoot beyond all bounds, Owls, Ravens, Crickets seem the watch of death, Nature's worst Vermine scare her God-like Sons. Ecchoes the very leavings of a Voice, Grow babling Ghosts, and call us to our Graves: Each Mole-hill thought swells to a huge Olympus, While we fantastick Dreamers heave and puff, And sweat with an Imagination's weight.
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All things are subject to decay and when fate summons, monarchs must obey.
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For those whom God to ruin has design'd, He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind.
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The perverseness of my fate is such that he's not mine because he's mine too much.
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Be fair, or foul, or rain, or shine, The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not heaven itself upon the past has power; But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
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Love is not in our choice but in our fate.
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Tis Fate that flings the dice, And as she flings Of kings makes peasants, And of peasants kings.
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