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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
Sea
Heart
Paper
Think
Poor
Thinking
White
Write
Earth
Twere
Ink
Enough
Doth
Writing

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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
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In misery it is great comfort to have a companion.
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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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As the best wine doth make the sharpest vinegar, so the deepest love turns to the deadliest hate.
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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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To love women and never enjoy them, is as much to love wine and never taste it.
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The finest edge is made with the blunt whetstone.
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Let the falling out of friends be a renewing of affection.
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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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As love knoweth no lawes, so it regardeth no conditions
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Where the mind is past hope, the heart is past shame.
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In arguing of the shadow, we forgo the substance.
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Water runneth smoothest where it is deepest.
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He that loseth his honesty hath nothing else to lose.
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If you will be cherished when you are old, be courteous while you be young.
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Long quaffing maketh a short lyfe.
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