Best 39 quotes of Anne Bradstreet on MyQuotes

A prosperous state makes a secure Christian, but adversity makes him Consider.

Art can do much, but this maxim's most sure/A weak or wounded brain admits no cure.

Authority without wisdom is like a heavy ax without an edge -- fitter to bruise than polish.

But man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid.

Fire hath its force abated by water, not by wind; and anger must be allayed by cold words, and not by blustering threats.

Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, I here, though there, yet both but one.

He that would be content with a mean condition must not cast his eye upon one that is in a far better estate than himself, but let him look upon him that is lower than he is, and, if he see that such a one bears poverty comfortably, it will help to quiet him.

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue who says my hand a needle better fits.

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue/ Who says my hand a needle better fits./ A poet's pen all scorn I should thus wrong/ For such despite they cast on female wits;/ If what I do prove well, it won't advance,/ They'll say it's stolen, or else, it was by chance.

If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee; If ever wife was happy in a man, Compare with me, ye women, if you can I prize thy love more than whole mines of Gold. Or all the riches that the East doth hold. My love is such that rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee, give recompense. Thy love is such I can no way repay, The heavens reward thee manifold repay, Then while we live, in love let's so persevere That when we live no more, we may live ever.

If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.

If ever wife was happy in a man, compare with me, ye women if you can.

If what I do prove well, it won't advance. They'll say it's stolen, or else it was by chance.

I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold or all the riches that the East doth hold.

Iron till it be thoroughly heated is incapable to be wrought; so God sees good to cast some men into the furnace of affliction, and then beats them on His anvil into what frame He desires.

It is reported of the peacock that priding himself in his gay feathers he ruffles them up; but spying his black feet he soon lets fall his plumes. So he that glories in his gifts and adornings should look upon his corruptions, and that will damp his high thoughts.

My age I will not once lament, / But sing, my time so near is spent.

My hope and treasure lies above

My love is such that Rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee, give recompence. Thy love is such I can no way repay, The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.

O Time the fatal wrack of mortal things, That draws oblivion's curtains over kings; Their sumptuous monuments, men know them not, Their names without a record are forgot, Their parts, their ports, their pomps all laid in th' dust Nor wit nor gold, nor buildings scape time's rust; But he whose name is graved in the white stone Shall last and shine when all of these are gone.

Satan, that great angler, hath his sundry baits for sundry tempers of men, which they all catch greedily at, but few perceive the hook till it be too late.

Sin and shame ever go together; he that would be freed from the last must be sure to shun the company of the first.

Some laborers have hard hands, and old sinners have brawny consciences.

There is no object that we see; no action that we do; no good that we enjoy; no evil that we feel, or fear, but we may make some spiritual advantage of all: and he that makes such improvement is wise, as well as pious.

The spring is a lively emblem of the Resurrection.

The stones and trees, insensible to time, / Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen; / If Winter come, and greenness then do fade / A Spring returns, and they more youthful made; / But man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid.

The world no longer lets me love, My hope and treasure are above.

To sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings/Of Cities founded, Common-wealths begun/For my mean Pen are too superior things.

We must, therefore, be here as strangers and pilgrims, that we may plainly declare that we seek a city above.

What to my Saviour shall I giveWho freely hath done this for me?I'll serve him here whilst I shall liveAnd Loue him to Eternity

When I behold the heavens as in their prime, And then the earth (though old) still clad in green, The stones and trees, insensible of time, Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen

Wickedness comes to its height by degrees. He that dares say of a less sin, Is it not a little one? will ere long say of a greater, Tush, God regards it not!

Wisdom with an inheritance is good, but wisdom without an inheritance is better than an inheritance without wisdom.

Youth is the time of getting, middle age of improving, and old age of spending; a negligent youth is usually attended by an ignorant middle age, and both by an empty old age.

Youth is the time of getting, middle age of improving, and old age of spending.

Compare with me, ye women, if you can

My love is such that rivers cannot quench

Now say, have women worth, or have they none? Or had they some, but with our Queen is’t gone? Nay Masculines, you have thus tax’d us long, But she, though dead, will vindicate our wrong. Let such as say our sex is void of reason Know ‘tis a slander now, but once was treason." (In Honour of that High and Mighty Princess, Queen Elizabeth)

The Author To Her Book Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain, Who after birth did'st by my side remain, Till snatcht from thence by friends, less wise than true, Who thee abroad exposed to public view, Made thee in rags, halting to th' press to trudge, Where errors were not lessened (all may judge). At thy return my blushing was not small, My rambling brat (in print) should mother call. I cast thee by as one unfit for light, The visage was so irksome in my sight, Yet being mine own, at length affection would Thy blemishes amend, if so I could. I washed thy face, but more defects I saw, And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw. I stretcht thy joints to make thee even feet, Yet still thou run'st more hobbling than is meet. In better dress to trim thee was my mind, But nought save home-spun cloth, i' th' house I find. In this array, 'mongst vulgars may'st thou roam. In critic's hands, beware thou dost not come, And take thy way where yet thou art not known. If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none; And for thy mother, she alas is poor, Which caused her thus to send thee out of door.