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To give reason for fancy were to weigh the fire, and measure the wind.

John Lyly

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John Lyly
Died: 1606
Died: November 18
Novelist
Playwright
Politician
Writer
Kent
England
John Lilly
John Lylie
John Lyly
Giving
Weigh
Fancy
Measure
Wind
Fire
Give
Reason

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Do you think that any one can move the heart but He that made it?
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The rattling thunderbolt hath but his clap, the lightning but his flash, and as they both come in a moment, so do they both end in a minute.
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If love be a god, why should not lovers be virtuous?
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I am of this mind, that might and malice, deceit and treachery perjury and impiety may lawfully be committed in love which is lawless.
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[Beauty is] a delicate bait with a deadly hook a sweet panther with a devouring paunch, a sour poison in a silver pot.
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Thou shalt come out of a warme Sunne into God's blessing.
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A heat full of coldness, a sweet full of bitterness, a pain full of pleasantness, which maketh thoughts have eyes and hearts ears, bred by desire, nursed by delight, weaned by jealousy, kill'd by dissembling, buried by ingratitude, and this is love.
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The greatest harm that you can do unto the envious, is to do well.
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Whatsoever is in the heart of the sober man, is in the mouth of the drunkard.
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When parents put gold into the hands of youth, when they should put a rod under their girdle--when instead of awe they make them past grace, and leave them rich executors of goods, and poor executors of godliness, then it is no marvel that the son being left rich by his father's will, becomes reckless by his own will.
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It is the eye of the master that fatteth the horse, and the love of the woman that maketh the man.
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Thou art an heyre to fayre lying, that is nothing, if thou be disinherited of learning, for better were it to thee to inherite righteousnesse then riches, and far more seemly were if for thee to haue thy Studie full of bookes, then thy pursse full of mony.
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As the best wine doth make the sharpest vinegar, so the deepest love turns to the deadliest hate.
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Marriages are made in heaven and consummated on Earth.
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In arguing of the shadow, we forgo the substance.
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The broken bone, once set together, is stronger than ever.
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A merry companion is as good as a wagon, For you shall be sure to ride though ye go a foot.
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None but the lark so shrill and clear Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings, The morn not waking till she sings.
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Nothing so perilous as procrastination
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If all the earth were paper white / And all the sea were ink / 'Twere not enough for me to write / As my poor heart doth think.
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