Joseph Addison ( 10 of 139 )
Jealousy is that pain which a man feels from the apprehension that he is not equally beloved by the person read more
Jealousy is that pain which a man feels from the apprehension that he is not equally beloved by the person whom he entirely loves
The honors of this world, what are they but puff, and emptiness,
and peril of falling?
The honors of this world, what are they but puff, and emptiness,
and peril of falling?
There is no greater sign of a general decay of virtue in a
nation, than a want of zeal read more
There is no greater sign of a general decay of virtue in a
nation, than a want of zeal in its inhabitants for the good of
their country.
If men would consider not so much where they differ, as wherein they agree, there would be far less of read more
If men would consider not so much where they differ, as wherein they agree, there would be far less of uncharitableness and angry feeling in the world.
O Dormer, how can I behold thy fate,
And not the wonders of thy youth relate;
How read more
O Dormer, how can I behold thy fate,
And not the wonders of thy youth relate;
How can I see the gay, the brave, the young,
Fall in the cloud of war, and lie unsung!
In joys of conquest he resigns his breath,
And, filled with England's glory, smiles in death.
The friendships of the world are oft confederacies in vice, or leagues of pleasures.
The friendships of the world are oft confederacies in vice, or leagues of pleasures.
When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view I'm lost,
read more
When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view I'm lost,
In wonder, love and praise.
Admiration is a very short-lived passion that immediately decays upon growing familiar with its object, unless it be still fed read more
Admiration is a very short-lived passion that immediately decays upon growing familiar with its object, unless it be still fed with fresh discoveries, and kept alive by a new perpetual succession of miracles rising up to its view.
Is there not some chosen curse,
Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven,
Red with uncommon read more
Is there not some chosen curse,
Some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven,
Red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man
Who owes his greatness to his country's ruin?
On you, my lord, with anxious fear I wait,
And from your judgment must expect my fate.
On you, my lord, with anxious fear I wait,
And from your judgment must expect my fate.
