“Goodness is beauty in the best estate.”

All women are ambitious naturally.

You stars that reigned at my nativity, whose influence hath allotted death and hell.

My men like satyrs grazing on the lawns, / Shall with their goat-feet dance an antic hay.

Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, Heavens conspir’d his overthrow.

Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike

Things that are not at all, are never lost.

Honour is purchas’d by the deeds we do.

Live and die in Aristotle’s works.

Religion! O Diabole! Fie, I am asham’d, however that I seem, To think a word of such simple sound, Of such great matter should be made the ground.

Fools that will laugh on earth, most weep in hell.

Strike up the drum and march courageously.

All places shall be hell that are not heaven.

Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place, for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be.

Is it not passing brave to be a King and ride in triumph through Persepolis?

O soul, be changed into little waterdrops, / And fall into the ocean, ne’er be found!

And just like that, he told me that I was beautiful. Without knowing all the wars I wage against myself.

Down to the marrow in your bones, you will always be beautiful to me.

The fabric of your life is a beautiful tapestry of contrast.

You’re my crescent moon not perfect but beautiful.

Sun rising slowly, frost hanging in the plush air; The skies are ablaze.

Just because you haven’t seen how wonderful, beautiful, and special she is, doesn’t mean no one else will.

Into you, like the sun embraces the moon – a beautiful eclipse.

Muses are born from a soul that is aching but I would sacrifice the most beautiful art if I could stop one heart from breaking.