William Drummond

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Iron sharpens iron; scholar, the scholar.
- William Drummond
Collection: Intelligence
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Put a bridle on thy tongue; set a guard before thy lips, lest the words of thine own mouth destroy thy peace... on much speaking cometh repentance, but in silence is safety.
- William Drummond
Collection: Peace
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He who will not reason, is a bigot; he who cannot is a fool; and he who dares not is a slave.
- William Drummond
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Study what thou art Whereof thou art a part What thou knowest of this art This is really what thou art. All that is without thee also is within.
- William Drummond
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He that will not reason is a bigot; he that cannot reason is a fool; and he that dares not reason is a slave.
- William Drummond
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I study myself more than any other subject; it is my metaphysic, and my physic.
- William Drummond
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There is a silence, the child of love, which expresses everything, and proclaims more loudly than the tongue is able to do.
- William Drummond
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He who dares not reason, is a slave.
- William Drummond
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As we had no part of our will on our entrance into this life, we should not presume to any on our leaving it, but soberly learn to will which He wills.
- William Drummond
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Books have that strange quality, that being of the frailest and tenderest matter, they outlast brass, iron and marble.
- William Drummond
Collection: Book
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What sweet delight a quiet life affords.
- William Drummond
Collection: Marriage
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He who dares not (reason), is a slave.
- William Drummond
Collection: Freedom
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Sleep, Silence's child, sweet father of soft rest, Prince whose approach peace to all mortals brings Indifferent host to shepherds and kings Sole comforter to minds with grief oppressed.
- William Drummond
Collection: Sweet
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Thrice happy he, who by some shady grove, Far from the clamorous world; doth live his own; Though solitary, who is not alone, But doth converse with that eternal love.
- William Drummond
Collection: Solitude
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So that my life be brave, what though not long?
- William Drummond
Collection: Life
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My thoughts hold mortal strife, I do detest my life, And with lamenting cries, Peace to my soul to bring, Oft calls that prince which here doth monarchize; But he, grim-grinning king, Who caitiffs scorns and doth the blest surprise, Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb, Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.
- William Drummond
Collection: Sad