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Christopher Marlowe Quote - I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.

I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.

Christopher Marlowe

Related Topics

Children Ignorance Myself Religion Sin Toys

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

It is a comfort to the miserable to have comrades in misfortune, but it is a poor comfort after all.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Comfortable Misery Misfortune Poor
Goodness is beauty in the best estate.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Beautiful Best Estate Goodness
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.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Happiness Live Love Nature
While money doesn’t buy love, it puts you in a great bargaining position.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Love Money Position Price Yourself
Above our life we love a steadfast friend.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Friendship Life Love Ourselves
Blood is the god of war’s rich livery.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Blood God Rich War
I’m armed with more than complete steel, – The justice of my quarrel.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Fight Justice Myself Preparation War Weapon
Love me little, love me long.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Long Love Myself
Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov’d, that lov’d not at first sight?
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Couple Love See
Virtue is the fount whence honour springs.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Born Respect Spring Virtue
I am Envy, I cannot read and therefore wish all books burned.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Book Burn Jealous Myself Reading
O soul, be changed into little waterdrops, / And fall into the ocean, ne’er be found!
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Change Fall Ocean Water
Live and die in Aristotle’s works.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Death Live Work
Had I as many souls as there be stars, I’d give them all for Mephistopheles!
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

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

Heaven Himself Reach Wings
Accurst be he that first invented war.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Invention War

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