Things that are not at all, are never lost.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEThings that are not at all, are never lost.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEThe griefs of private men are soon allayed, But not of kings.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEHell strives with grace for conquest in my breast. What shall I do to shun the snares of death?
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEVirtue is the fount whence honour springs.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEAccurst be he that first invented war.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEThat perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEWhen all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that are not heaven.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEYou stars that reigned at my nativity, whose influence hath allotted death and hell.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWETill swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, Heavens conspir’d his overthrow.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWELove is not full of pity (as men say) But deaf and cruel, where he means to pray.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEAll places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEAll places shall be hell that are not heaven.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEHonour is purchas’d by the deeds we do.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWELone women, like to empty houses, perish.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEWhat are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWEWho ever loved that loved not at first sight?
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE