Frases de Charles Churchill (poeta)

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Charles Churchill (poeta)

Data de nascimento: 1732
Data de falecimento: 4. Novembro 1764

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Charles Churchill foi um poeta inglês.

Citações Charles Churchill (poeta)

„With curious art the brain, too finely wrought,
Preys on herself, and is destroy'd by thought“

— Charles Churchill (satirist)
Context: With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, Preys on herself, and is destroy'd by thought: Constant attention wears the active mind, Blots out our powers, and leaves a blank behind. Epistle to William Hogarth (July 1763), line 645

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„Of sovereign power, whom one and all
With common voice, we Reason call.“

— Charles Churchill (satirist)
Context: Within the brain's most secret cells A certain Lord Chief Justice dwells Of sovereign power, whom one and all With common voice, we Reason call.

„Wherever waves can roll, and winds can blow.“

— Charles Churchill (satirist)
The Farewell (1764), line 38; comparable with: "Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam", Lord Byron, The Corsair, canto i. stanza 1

„Who to patch up his fame, or fill his purse,
Still pilfers wretched plans, and makes them worse;
Like gypsies, lest the stolen brat be known,
Defacing first, then claiming for his own.“

— Charles Churchill (satirist)
Apology addressed to the Critical Reviewers (1761), line 232, comparable with: "Steal! to be sure they may; and, egad, serve your best thoughts as gypsies do stolen children,—disguise them to make 'em pass for their own", Richard Brinsley Sheridan, The Critic, act i. sc. i

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„Be England what she will,
With all her faults she is my country still.“

— Charles Churchill (satirist)
The Farewell (1764), line 27; comparable with: "England, with all thy faults I love thee still, My country!", William Cowper, The Task, book ii. The Timepiece, line 206

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„But, spite of all the criticising elves,
Those who would make us feel—must feel themselves.“

— Charles Churchill (satirist)
The Rosciad (1761), line 961; comparable with: "Si vis me flere, dolendum est/ Primum ipsi tibi" (translated as "If you wish me to weep, you yourself must first feel grief"), Horace, Ars Poetica, v. 102

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