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O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.

Christopher Marlowe

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Christopher Marlowe
Age: 29 †
Born: 1564
Born: February 23
Died: 1593
Died: May 30
Author
Dramatist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Canterbury
United Kingdom
Kit Marlowe
Evening
Thou
Air
Thousand
Beauty
Faustus
Stars
Clad
Art
Fairer
Love
Romantic

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Fornication: but that was in another country And besides, the wench is dead.
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The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike
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Love me little, love me long.
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Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place, for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be.
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FAUSTUS. [Stabbing his arm.] Lo, Mephistophilis, for love of thee, I cut mine arm, and with my proper blood Assure my soul to be great Lucifer's, Chief lord and regent of perpetual night!
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Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer, / Conspired against our God with Lucifer, / And are for ever damned with Lucifer.
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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.
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Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight, And burned is Apollo's laurel bough, That sometime grew within this learned man. Faustus is gone.
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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.
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Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness.
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Virginity, albeit some highly prize it, Compared with marriage, had you tried them both, Differs as much as wine and water doth.
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Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?
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Live and die in Aristotle's works.
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Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, Heavens conspir'd his overthrow.
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While money doesn't buy love, it puts you in a great bargaining position.
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Things that are not at all, are never lost.
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All women are ambitious naturallie
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My men like satyrs grazing on the lawns, / Shall with their goat-feet dance an antic hay.
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Goodness is beauty in the best estate.
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I'm armed with more than complete steel, - The justice of my quarrel.
Christopher Marlowe