An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave; legions of angels can't confine me there. Edward Young More Quotes by Edward Young More Quotes From Edward Young How blessings brighten as they take their flight. Edward Young flight literature blessing Too low they build who build below the skies. Edward Young goal literature sky Who lives to Nature, rarely can be poor ; who lives to fancy, never can be rich. Edward Young rich fancy nature Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew, She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven. Edward Young dew morning heaven A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs. Edward Young soul reflection running 'T is impious in a good man to be sad. Edward Young good-man men How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!... Midway from nothing to the Deity! Edward Young deities august men We are all born originals - why is it so many of us die copies? Edward Young being-unique being-different inspirational Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade! Edward Young vision dream men The qualities all in a bee that we meet, In an epigram never should fail; The body should always be little and sweet, And a sting should be felt in its tail. Edward Young quality tails sweet A death-bed's a detector of the heart. Edward Young death-bed bed heart How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, how complicate, how wonderful is man! Distinguished link in being's endless chain! Midway from nothing to the Deity! Dim miniature of greatness absolute! An heir of glory! A frail child of dust! Helpless immortal! Insect infinite! A worm! A God! Edward Young greatness men children The course of Nature is the art of God Edward Young courses nature art Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, "That all men are about to live." Edward Young bears mistake men Our birth is nothing but our death begun; As tapers waste, that instant they take fire. Edward Young dying fire death Mine is the night, with all her stars. Edward Young mines stars night Leisure is pain; take off our chariot wheels; how heavily we drag the load of life! Edward Young leisure wheels pain Where boasting ends, there dignity begins. Edward Young boast dignity ends The booby father craves a booby son, And by Heaven's blessing thinks himself undone. Edward Young blessing father son Narcissus is the glory of his race: For who does nothing with a better grace?. Edward Young glory race doe
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