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Christopher Marlowe Quote - Virtue is the fount whence honour springs.

Virtue is the fount whence honour springs.

Christopher Marlowe

Related Topics

Born Respect Spring Virtue

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

Love me little, love me long.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

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

Love Money Position Price Yourself
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.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Greatness Myself Religion Shame Simplicity Sound Thinking Word
What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Day King Perfection Shadow Sunshine
I am Envy, I cannot read and therefore wish all books burned.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Book Burn Jealous Myself Reading
Our swords shall play the orators for us.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Ourselves Play Sword
We control fifty percent of a relationship. We influence one hundred percent of it.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Influence Oneself Relationship
Infinite riches in a little room.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Infinite One Liner Rich Room
Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Love Sight
Had I as many souls as there be stars, I’d give them all for Mephistopheles!
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Myself Soul Stars
Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Mom Rhyme
Time doth run with calm and silent foot, Shortening my days and thread of vital life.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Calm Life Silence Time
Fools that will laugh on earth, most weep in hell.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Cry Earth Fools Hell Laughter
He must have a long spoon that eats with the devil.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Devil Eat Himself
I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Children Ignorance Myself Religion Sin Toys
Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast. What shall I do to shun the snares of death?
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Death Grace Hell Myself Unknown

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