“So manifold, all pleasing in their kind,
All healthful, are the employs of rural life,
Reiterated as the wheel of time,
Runs round; still ending, and beginning still.”
Source: The Task (1785), Book III, The Garden, Line 624.
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All healthful, are the employs of rural life,
Reiterated as the wheel of tim…" by William Cowper?
William Cowper 174
(1731–1800) English poet and hymnodist 1731–1800Related quotes
André Maurois
(1885–1967) French writer
Un Art de Vivre (The Art of Living) (1939), The Art of Growing Old
“The world is a wheel, and it will all come round right.”
Benjamin Disraeli
(1804–1881) British Conservative politician, writer, aristocrat and Prime Minister
Source: Books, Coningsby (1844), Endymion (1880), Ch. 70.
What Happened To Goodbye (2011)
Source: What Happened to Goodbye
Stanza 4
An die Freude (Ode to Joy; or Hymn to Joy) (1785)
“As the blessings of health and fortune have a beginning, so they must also find an end.”
Sallust
(-86–-34 BC) Roman historian, politician
As quoted in The Cyclopaedia of Practical Quotations: English and Latin (1894) edited by J. K. Hoyt and Anna L. Ward, p. 508
Context: As the blessings of health and fortune have a beginning, so they must also find an end. Everything rises but to fall, and increases but to decay.
Margaret Atwood
(1939) Canadian writer
On Writing Poetry (1995)
Context: I no longer feel I'll be dead by thirty; now it's sixty. I suppose these deadlines we set for ourselves are really a way of saying we appreciate time, and want to use all of it. I'm still writing, I'm still writing poetry, I still can't explain why, and I'm still running out of time. Wordsworth was sort of right when he said, "Poets in their youth begin in gladness/ But thereof comes in the end despondency and madness." Except that sometimes poets skip the gladness and go straight to the despondency. Why is that? Part of it is the conditions under which poets work — giving all, receiving little in return from an age that by and large ignores them — and part of it is cultural expectation — "The lunatic, the lover and the poet," says Shakespeare, and notice which comes first. My own theory is that poetry is composed with the melancholy side of the brain, and that if you do nothing but, you may find yourself going slowly down a long dark tunnel with no exit. I have avoided this by being ambidextrous: I write novels too. But when I find myself writing poetry again, it always has the surprise of that first unexpected and anonymous gift.
