179 Quotes by Robert Herrick

Tis not the food, but the content, That makes the table’s merriment.

I’ll write, because I’ll give – You critics means to live; For should I not supply – The cause, the effect would die.

My soul I’ll pour into thee.

Let’s live with that small pittance which we have; Who covets more is evermore a slave.

Roses at first were white, Till thy co’d not agree, Whether my Sapho’s breast, Or they more white sho’d be.

The readiness of doing doth expresse No other but the doer’s willingnesse.

For pitty, Sir, find out that Bee Which bore my Love away I’le seek him in your Bonnet brave, I’le seek him in your eyes.

Whatever comes, let’s be content withal; Among God’s blessings there is not one small.