black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

Wine it is the milk of Venus, And the poet’s horse accounted: Ply it and you all are mounted.

Ben Jonson

Still may syllables jar with time, Still may reason war with rhyme, Resting never!
BEN JONSON

May Poetry War
Nor use too swelling, or ill-sounded words . . . .
BEN JONSON

Sounded Swelling Use Words
O, for an engine, to keep back all clocks, or make the sun forget his motion!
BEN JONSON

Forget Sun Time
Out of clothes out of countenance, out of countenance out of wit.
BEN JONSON

Clothes Countenance Wit
Let argument bear no unmusical sound.
BEN JONSON

Argument Bears Sound
Follow a shadow, it still flies you, Seem to fly, it will pursue: So court a mistress, she denies you; Let her alone, she will court you. Say are not women truly, then, Styled but the shadows of us men?
BEN JONSON

Men Mistress Shadow
For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such, As what he loves may never like too much.
BEN JONSON

Love May Sake
A lily of a day Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night, It was the plant and flower of light. In small proportions we just beauties see, And in short measures life may perfect be.
BEN JONSON

Die Fall Flower Night Proportion
Ready writing makes not good writing, but good writing brings on ready writing.
BEN JONSON

Good Ready Writing
You learn nothing about someone by the way they win the fight, you learn everything about the way they lose and keep coming back.
BEN JONSON

Art Fighting Winning
Your highest female grace is silence.
BEN JONSON

Female Grace Silence
True gladness doth not always speak; joy, bred and born but in the tongue, is weak.
BEN JONSON

Joy Speak Tongue
There is no greater hell than to be a prisoner of fear.
BEN JONSON

Fear Hell No Prisoner
There is no doctrine will do good where nature is wanting.
BEN JONSON

Creeds Doctrine Good Waiting
Indeed there’s a woundy luck in names.
BEN JONSON

Indeed Luck Names Woundy
For he that once is good, is ever great.
BEN JONSON

Good Greatness Once

Wine it is the milk of Venus, And the poet’s horse accounted: Ply it and you all are mounted.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

Wine it is the milk of Venus, And the poet’s horse accounted: Ply it and you all are mounted.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

More Ben Jonson Quotes