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Christopher Marlowe Quote - Accurst be he that first invented war.

Accurst be he that first invented war.

Christopher Marlowe

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

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

Death Ourselves Sin Truth
Nothing violent, oft have I heard tell, can be permanent.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Myself Talk Violence
Live and die in Aristotle’s works.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Death Live Work
You stars that reigned at my nativity, whose influence hath allotted death and hell.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Heaven Hell Influence Stars Yourself
O soul, be changed into little waterdrops, / And fall into the ocean, ne’er be found!
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Change Fall Ocean Water
Is it not passing brave to be a King and ride in triumph through Persepolis?
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Brave King Ride Success
Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ileum?
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Burn Destruction Face Start War
All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Death Earth Grave Place
More childish valorous than manly wise.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Children Man Wisdom
Fools that will laugh on earth, most weep in hell.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Cry Earth Fools Hell Laughter
I’m armed with more than complete steel, – The justice of my quarrel.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Fight Justice Myself Preparation War Weapon
Lone women, like to empty houses, perish.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Disappear Empty Lonely Woman
Religion hides many mischiefs from suspicion.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Hide Mischief Religion Suspicious
Who hateth me but for my happiness? Or who is honored now but for his wealth? Rather had I, a Jew, be hated thus, Than pitied in a Christian poverty.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Happiness Hate Myself Poverty Respect Wealth
My men like satyrs grazing on the lawns, / Shall with their goat-feet dance an antic hay.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Dance Field Man Myself
Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Mom Rhyme

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