Quote

Thou shalt come out of a warme Sunne into God's blessing.

John Lyly

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

John Lyly
Died: 1606
Died: November 18
Novelist
Playwright
Politician
Writer
Kent
England
John Lilly
John Lylie
John Lyly
Sunne
Shalt
Thou
Blessing
Sun
Come

More quotes by John Lyly

Image
Where the streame runneth smoothest, the water is deepest.
John Lyly
Image
There can no great smoke arise, but there must be some fire.
John Lyly
Image
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.
John Lyly
Image
Long quaffing maketh a short lyfe.
John Lyly
Image
The tongue, the ambassador of the heart.
John Lyly
Image
I am of this mind, that might and malice, deceit and treachery perjury and impiety may lawfully be committed in love which is lawless.
John Lyly
Image
For experience teacheth me that straight trees have crooked roots.
John Lyly
Image
The bee that hath honey in her mouth hath a sting in her tail.
John Lyly
Image
It is the eye of the master that fatteth the horse, and the love of the woman that maketh the man.
John Lyly
Image
In misery it is great comfort to have a companion.
John Lyly
Image
To give reason for fancy were to weigh the fire, and measure the wind.
John Lyly
Image
Do you think that any one can move the heart but He that made it?
John Lyly
Image
As love knoweth no lawes, so it regardeth no conditions
John Lyly
Image
Where the mind is past hope, the heart is past shame.
John Lyly
Image
Marriage is destinie, made in heaven.
John Lyly
Image
The greatest harm that you can do unto the envious, is to do well.
John Lyly
Image
A merry companion is as good as a wagon.
John Lyly
Image
When adversities flow, then love ebbs but friendship standeth stiffly in storms.
John Lyly
Image
The finest edge is made with the blunt whetstone.
John Lyly
Image
None but the lark so shrill and clear Now at heaven's gate she claps her wings, The morn not waking till she sings.
John Lyly