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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.
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
White
Write
Earth
Twere
Enough
Ink
Writing
Doth
Heart
Sea
Think
Paper
Thinking
Poor
More quotes by John Lyly
Water runneth smoothest where it is deepest.
John Lyly
Far more seemly to have thy study full of books, than thy purse full of money.
John Lyly
As the best wine doth make the sharpest vinegar, so the deepest love turns to the deadliest hate.
John Lyly
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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Time draweth wrinkles in a fair face, but addeth fresh colors to a fast friend, which neither heat, nor cold, nor misery, nor place, nor destiny, can alter or diminish
John Lyly
Whilst that the childe is young, let him be instructed in vertue and lytterature.
John Lyly
If you will be cherished when you are old, be courteous while you be young.
John Lyly
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.
John Lyly
If love be a god, why should not lovers be virtuous?
John Lyly
The slothful are always ready to engage in idle talk of what will be done tomorrow, and every day after.
John Lyly
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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Whatsoever is in the heart of the sober man, is in the mouth of the drunkard.
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A bargain is a bargain.
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The empty vessel giveth a greater sound than the full barrel.
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Thou shalt come out of a warme Sunne into God's blessing.
John Lyly
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.
John Lyly
Where the streame runneth smoothest, the water is deepest.
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In arguing of the shadow, we forgo the substance.
John Lyly
The finest edge is made with the blunt whetstone.
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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.
John Lyly