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Christopher Marlowe Quote - All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.

All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.

Christopher Marlowe

Related Topics

Death Earth Grave Place

Bagwalas

Popular Authors

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

Lone women, like to empty houses, perish.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Disappear Empty Lonely Woman
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
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
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
The griefs of private men are soon allayed, But not of kings.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Grief King Man Privacy
He must have a long spoon that eats with the devil.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Devil Eat Himself
All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Death Earth Grave Place
Make me immortal with a kiss.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Immortal Kiss Love Myself Romance
It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Fate Hate Love Lying Ourselves Power
Our swords shall play the orators for us.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Ourselves Play Sword
I’m armed with more than complete steel, – The justice of my quarrel.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Fight Justice Myself Preparation War Weapon
Live and die in Aristotle’s works.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Death Live Work
All live to die, and rise to fall.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Death Fall Live One Liner Rise
Religion hides many mischiefs from suspicion.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Hide Mischief Religion Suspicious
My men like satyrs grazing on the lawns, / Shall with their goat-feet dance an antic hay.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

Dance Field Man Myself
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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