Live and die in Aristotle’s works.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEO, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
More Christopher Marlowe Quotes
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Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer, Conspired against our God with Lucifer, And are for ever damned with Lucifer.
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Our swords shall play the orators for us.
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Virginity, albeit some highly prize it, Compared with marriage, had you tried them both, Differs as much as wine and water doth.
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Above our life we love a steadfast friend.
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Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?
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You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute, And now and then stab, as occasion serves.
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Infinite riches in a little room.
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All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.
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It is a comfort to the miserable to have comrades in misfortune, but it is a poor comfort after all.
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The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike
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Why should you love him whom the world hates so? Because he love me more than all the world.
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While money doesn’t buy love, it puts you in a great bargaining position.
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Love is not full of pity (as men say) But deaf and cruel, where he means to pray.
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If we say that we have no sin, We deceive ourselves, and there’s no truth in us. Why then belike we must sin, And so consequently die. Ay, we must die an everlasting death.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE -
You stars that reigned at my nativity, whose influence hath allotted death and hell.
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Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov’d, that lov’d not at first sight?
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Now I will show myself to have more of the serpent than the dove; That is–more knave than fool.
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Lone women, like to empty houses, perish.
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O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
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More childish valorous than manly wise.
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It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate.
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Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, Heavens conspir’d his overthrow.
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The griefs of private men are soon allayed, But not of kings.
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That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
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All live to die, and rise to fall.
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Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast. What shall I do to shun the snares of death?
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE