C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.


A curse is like a cloud—it passes.


  • Curses are like young chickens,
  • And still come home to roost!
  • Lytton.

    We let our blessings get mouldy, and then call them curses.


  • Oh! I will curse thee till thy frighted soul
  • Runs mad with horror.
  • Lee.

  • Down to the dust! and as thou rott’st away,
  • Even worms shall perish on thy poisonous clay.
  • Byron.

  • All the infections that the sun sucks up
  • From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
  • By inch-meal a disease!
  • Shakespeare.

  • Whip me, ye devils,
  • Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur,
  • Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire.
  • Shakespeare.

  • May the grass wither from thy feet; the woods
  • Deny thee shelter! earth a home! the dust
  • A grave! the sun his light! and heaven her God!
  • Byron.

  • Plagues and palsy,
  • Disease and pestilence consume the robber,
  • Infect his blood, and wither ev’ry pow’r.
  • Brown.

  • But no, I will not curse them: thro’ the world
  • A curse will follow them, like the black plague,
  • Tracking their footsteps ever—day and night,
  • Morning and eve, summer and winter—ever.
  • Proctor.

    Dinna curse him, sir; I have heard a good man say that a curse was like a stone flung up to the heavens, and maist like to return on his head that sent it.

    Walter Scott.

  • You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames
  • Into her scornful eyes!—Infect her beauty,
  • You fen-suck’d fogs, drawn by the powerful sun,
  • To fall and blister her pride!
  • Shakespeare.

  • Villains, vipers, damn’d without redemption;
  • Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man;
  • Snakes in my heart-blood warm’d, that sting my heart;
  • Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas.
  • Shakespeare.

  • May never glorious sun reflex his beams
  • Upon the country where you make abode!
  • But darkness and the gloomy shade of death
  • Environ you till mischief and despair
  • Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves.
  • Shakespeare.

  • Poison be their drink!
  • Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest meat that they taste!—
  • Their softest touch as smart as lizards’ stings!
  • Their music frightful as the serpent’s hiss!
  • And boding screech-owls make the concert full!
  • Shakespeare.

  • All the contagion of the south light on you,
  • You shames of Rome! you herd of—boils and plagues
  • Plaster you o’er; that you may be abhorr’d
  • Further than seen, and one infect another
  • Against the wind a mile!
  • Shakespeare.