God sends a curst cow short horns. George Herbert More Quotes by George Herbert More Quotes From George Herbert My house, my house, though thou art small, Thou art to me the Escurial. George Herbert house art Look not for musk in a dog's kennel. George Herbert musk dog looks Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is even in the grave, And thou must die. George Herbert eye roots sweet To a close shorn sheep, God gives wind by measure. George Herbert sheep wind giving God sends cold according to clothes. George Herbert cold clothes Sorrow was all my soul; I scarce believed, Till grief did tell me roundly, that I lived. George Herbert sorrow grief soul I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree; For sure then I should grow To fruit or shade: at least some bird would trust Her household to me, and I should be just. George Herbert wish tree bird He that makes a good war makes a good peace. George Herbert good-war war Who goes to bed, and doth not pray, Maketh two nights to every day! George Herbert prayer night two To a boiling pot flies come not. George Herbert boiling pot A broken Altar, Lord, thy servant rears, Made of a heart, and cemented with tears. George Herbert tears broken heart I know the ways of Pleasure, the sweet strains, The lullings and the relishes of it. George Herbert pleasure sweet way Music helps not the toothache. George Herbert toothache helping All truths are not to be told. George Herbert truth Resort to sermons, but to prayers most: Praying's the end of preaching. George Herbert ends praying prayer Words and feathers the wind carries away. George Herbert carrie feathers wind He that is drunken * * * Is outlawed by himself; all kind of ill Did with his liquor slide into his veins. George Herbert veins slides kind Avoid,Profaneness; come not here: Nothing but holy, pure, and clear, Or that which groaneth to be so, May at his peril further go. George Herbert peril holy may If thou do ill, the joy fades, not the pains. If well, the pain doth fade, the joy remains. George Herbert pain deeds joy If that thy fame with ev'ry toy be pos'd, 'Tis a thin web, which poysonous fancies make; But the great souldier's honour was compos'd Of thicker stuf, which would endure a shake. Wisdom picks friends; civility plays the rest; A toy shunn'd cleanly passeth with the best. George Herbert fancy toys play
