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• Let but thy wicked men from out thee go, And all the fools that crowd thee so, Even thou, who dost thy millions boast, A village less than Islington wilt grow, A solitude almost.
  -- Abraham Cowley (1618-1667) -- Of Solitude, vii...
• Life is an incurable disease. -- Abraham Cowley
• If thou findest thy wife in adultery, thou art free to kill her without trial, and canst not be punished.
  If, on the other hand, thou committest adultery, she durst not, and she has no right to, so much as lay a finger on thee....
• We griev'd, we sigh'd, we wept; we never blush'd before.
  -- Abraham Cowley (1618-1667) -- Discourse concerning the Government of Oliver Cromwell...
• The art of living is more like wrestling than dancing, in so far as it stands ready against the accidental and the unforeseen, and is not apt to fall.
  -- Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (121-180 AD) -- Meditations, vii, 61...
• O Life! how pleasant is thy morning, Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning!
  Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning, We frisk away, Like schoolboys at th' expected warning, To joy and play....
• The monster London laugh at me. -- Abraham Cowley (1618-1667) -- Of Solitude, xi
• Words that weep and tears that speak. -- Abraham Cowley (1618-1667) -- The Prophe
• Why did the Mafia kill Einstein? He knew too much.