Men are but children of a larger growth, Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain.
John DrydenRead
He was the man who of all modern, and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul. . . . He was naturally learn'd; he needed not the spectacles of books to read Nature; he looked inwards, and found her there. . . . He is many times flat, insipid; his comic wit degenerating in to clenches, his serious swelling into bombast. But he is always great, when some occasion is presented to him.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote reflects on the depth and complexity of a poet's soul, acknowledging both strengths and weaknesses in their work.
John Dryden's quote discusses the remarkable depth and breadth of a poet's soul, suggesting that this individual possesses an innate understanding of nature and a profound inner life that transcends typical learning. Although Dryden critiques certain aspects of the poet's work, such as moments of mediocrity and exaggerated styles, he ultimately recognizes the poet's greatness, especially when inspired by compelling circumstances. This duality hints at the complexities of artistic genius and the varying expressions of creativity.
Themes
PoetSoulNatureGreatnessArtistryExpression
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can be used in a discussion about the complexities of artistic talent during a literature class.
More from John Dryden
All quotes →Of no distemper, of no blast he died, _x000D_ But fell like autumn fruit that mellow'd long: _x000D_ Even wonder'd at, because he dropp'd no sooner. _x000D_ Fate seem'd to wind him up for fourscore years; _x000D_ Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more; _x000D_ Till like a clock worn out with eating time, _x000D_ The wheels of weary life at last stood still.
John DrydenRead
Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?
John DrydenRead
Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.
John DrydenRead
Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; and every little absence is an age.
John DrydenRead
And write whatever Time shall bring to pass_x000D_ _x000D_ With pens of adamant on plates of brass.
John DrydenRead
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