Andrew Marvell Quotes

...the inglorious arts of peace...

Thy beauty shall no more be found; Nor, in thy marble vault shall sound My echoing song; then worms shall try That long preserved virginity, And your quaint honor turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace.

But at my back I always hear
Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.

To make a bank was a great plot of state;
Invent a shovel, and be a magistrate.

So much one man can do,
That does both act and know.

Music, the mosaic of the air

An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart.

My love is of a birth as rare As 'tis for object strange and high; It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility.

As lines, so loves oblique may well Themselves in every angle greet; But ours so truly parallel, Though infinite, can never meet.

For Juliana comes, and she, what I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me.

Casting the body's vest aside,
My soul into the boughs does glide.

My love is of a birth as rare
As 'tis, for object, strange and high;
It was begotten by Despair
Upon Impossibility.

Могилы - не дурной приют, но там обняться не дают.

And yet I quickly might arrive
Where my extended soul is fixt,
But Fate does iron wedges drive,
And always crowds itself betwixt.

To wander solitary there:
Two paradises ‘twere in one
To live in paradise alone.