Page:Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922).djvu/728

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SAFFLOWER
SATISFACTION


1

We look before and after,
And pine for what is not,
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught:
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

ShelleyTo a Skylark. St. 18.


'Tis impious in a good man to be sad.
Young—Night Thoughts. Night IV. L. 676.


SAFFLOWER Carthamus

And the saffron flower
Clear as a flame of sacrifice breaks out.
Jean Ingelow—The Doom. Bk. II.


SAILORS (See Navy)

SAND-PIPER

Across the narrow beach we flit,
One little sand-piper and I;
And fast I gather, bit by bit.
The scattered drift-wood, bleached and dry,
The wild waves reach their hands for it,
The wild wind raves, the tide runs high,
As up and down the beach we flit,
One little sand-piper and I.
Celia Thaxter—The Sand-Piper.


SATIRE

Why should we fear; and what? The laws?
They all are armed in virtue's cause;
And aiming at the self-same end,
Satire is always virtue's friend.
Churchill—Ghost. Bk. III. L. 943.


Unless a love of virtue light the flame,
Satire is, more than those he brands, to blame;
He hides behind a magisterial air
His own offences, and strips others' bare.
 | author = Cowper
 | work = Charity. L. 490.


Difficile est satiram non scribere.
It is difficult not to write satire.
Juvenal—Satires. I. 29.
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{{Hoyt quote
 | num = 5
 | text = Men are more satirical from vanity than from malice.
La Rochefoucauld—Maxims. No. 508.


Satire should, like a polished razor keen,
Wound with a touch that's scarcely felt or seen.
Thine is an oyster knife, that hacks and hews;
The rage but not the talent to abuse.
Lady Mary Wobtley Montague—To the
Imitator of the First Satire of Horace. (Pope.}})
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{{Hoyt quote
 | num =
 | text = <poem>I wear my Pen as others do their Sword.
To each affronting sot I meet, the word
Is Satisfaction: straight to thrusts I go,
And pointed satire runs him through and through.
John Oldham—Satire upon a Printer. L. 35.


Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,
Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;
Alike reserv'd to blame, or to commend,
A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend.
 | author = Pope
 | work = Prologue to Satires. L. 201.
 | seealso = (See also Wycherley under Praise)
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{{Hoyt quote
 | num =
 | text = <poem>Satire or sense, alas! Can Sporus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
 | author = Pope
 | work = Prologue to Satires. L. 307. ("Sporus,"
Lord John Hervey.}})
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 | page = 690
}}

{{Hoyt quote
 | num =
 | text = <poem>There are, to whom my satire seems too bold;
Scarce to wise Peter complaisant enough,
And something said of Chartres much too rough.
 | author = Pope
 | work = Second Book of Horace. Satire I. L. 2.


Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreet
To run amuck and tilt at all I meet.
 | author = Pope
 | work = Second Book of Horace. Satire I. L. 71.


It is a pretty mocking of the life.
Timon of Athens. Act I. Sc. 1. L. 35.


La satire ment sur les gens de lettres pendant
leur vie, et l'eloge ment apres leur mort.
Satire lies about literary men while they live
and eulogy lies about them when they die.
Voltaire—Lettre a Bordes. Jan. 10, 1769.
 SATISFACTION
II plait a tout le monde et ne saurait se plaire.
He [Moliere] pleases every one but can not
please himself.
Boileau—Satires. II.


Nul n'est content de sa fortune;
Ni mecontent de son esprit.
No one is satisfied with his fortune, nor dissatisfied with his intellect.
Deshouliekes.


Multa petentibus
Desunt multa.
Bene est, cui Deus obtulit
Parca, quod satis est manu.
Those who seek for much are left in want
of much. Happy is he to whom God has given,
with sparing hand, as much as is enough.
Horace—Carmina. Bk. III. 16. 42.
Ohe! jam satis est.
Now, that's enough.
Horace—Epistles. I. 5.
Epigrams. IV. 91. 1.
. Martial—
Sed tacitus pasci si posset corvus, haberet
Plus dapis, et rixae multo minus imidiseque.
If die crow had been satisfied to eat his prey
in silence, he would have had more meat and
less quarreling and envy.
Horace—Epistles. I. 17. 50.


Les delicats sont malheureux,
Rien ne saurait les satisfaire.
The fastidious are unfortunate: nothing can
satisfy them.
La Fontaine—Fables. II. 1.