We cannot wish for that we know not.
[Fr., On ne peut desirer ce qu'on ne connait pas.]

We cannot wish for that we know not.
[Fr., On ne peut desirer ce qu'on ne connait pas.]

As you can not do what you wish, you should wish what you can do.
[Lat., Quoniam id fieri read more

As you can not do what you wish, you should wish what you can do.
[Lat., Quoniam id fieri quod vis non potest
Id velis quod possis.]

Little I ask; my wants are few;
I only wish a hut of stone
(A very plain read more

Little I ask; my wants are few;
I only wish a hut of stone
(A very plain brown stone will do),
That I may call my own;
And close at hand is such a one
In yonder street that fronts the sun.

You pursue, I fly; you fly, I pursue; such is my humor. What you
wish, Dondymus, I do not read more

You pursue, I fly; you fly, I pursue; such is my humor. What you
wish, Dondymus, I do not wish, what you do not wish, I do.

I've often wished that I had clear,
For life, six hundred pounds a year,
A handsome house read more

I've often wished that I had clear,
For life, six hundred pounds a year,
A handsome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,
A terrace walk, and half a rood
Of land, set out to plant a wood.

Of all complexions the culled sovereignty
Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek,
Where read more

Of all complexions the culled sovereignty
Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek,
Where several worthies make one dignity,
Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek.

Man wants but little, nor that little long;
How soon must he resign his very dust,
Which read more

Man wants but little, nor that little long;
How soon must he resign his very dust,
Which frugal nature lent him for an hour!

Some nights the sky wept stars that quickly floated and disappeared into the darkness before our wishes could meet them.

Some nights the sky wept stars that quickly floated and disappeared into the darkness before our wishes could meet them.

If I live to grow old, as I find I go down,
Let this be my fate in a read more

If I live to grow old, as I find I go down,
Let this be my fate in a country town;
May I have a warm house, with a stone at my gate,
And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate.
May I govern my passions with an absolute sway,
Grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
- Walter Pope, The Old Man's Wish,