Quotes by : Matthew Prior

Similes are like songs of love: They much describe they nothing prove.

They never taste who always drink They always talk who never think.

Who breathes must suffer, and who thinks must mourn; And he alone is bless'd who ne'er was born.

He's half absolv'd Who has confess'd.

Fantastic tyrant of the amorous heart. How hard thy yoke, how cruel thy dart. Those escape your anger....

Hope is but the dream of those that wake.

Hope is but the dream of those who wake.

The end must justify the means.

And hope is but a dream of those that wake.