William Cowper

Oh, my friend, it's not what they take away from you that counts.
It's what you do with what read more

Oh, my friend, it's not what they take away from you that counts.
It's what you do with what you have left.

Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.

Our wasted oil unprofitably burns,
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral urns.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains,
Which only poets know.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains,
Which only poets know.

Fanaticism, the false fire of an overheated mind.

Fanaticism, the false fire of an overheated mind.

Exactness is the sublimity of fools.
[Fr., L'exactitude est le sublime des sots.]

Exactness is the sublimity of fools.
[Fr., L'exactitude est le sublime des sots.]