Quote

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.

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
Gone
Branches
Faustus
Might
Grown
Bough
Men
Straight
Laurel
Cutting
Laurels
Grew
Sometime
Learned
Apollo
Full
Branch
Within
Burned

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All live to die, and rise to fall.
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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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There is no sin but ignorance.
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Faustus: Stay, Mephistopheles, and tell me, what good will my soul do thy lord? Mephistopheles: Enlarge his kingdom. Faustus: Is that the reason he tempts us thus? Mephistopheles: Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris. (It is a comfort to the wretched to have companions in misery)
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Accurst be he that first invented war.
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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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Things that are not at all, are never lost.
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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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Goodness is beauty in the best estate.
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Infinite riches in a little room.
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What feeds me destroys me.
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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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O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
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We control fifty percent of a relationship. We influence one hundred percent of it.
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I am Envy, begotten of a chimney-sweeper and an oyster-wife. I cannot read, and therefore wish all books were burnt I am lean with seeing others eat - O that there would come a famine through all the world, that all might die, and I live alone then thou should'st see how fat I would be! But must thou sit and I stand? Come down, with a vengeance!
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Live and die in Aristotle's works.
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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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My men like satyrs grazing on the lawns, / Shall with their goat-feet dance an antic hay.
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Honour is purchas'd by the deeds we do.
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Fools that will laugh on earth, most weep in hell.
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