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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.

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
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Larks
Clear
Morn
Heaven
Sings
Gate
Gates
Waking
Claps
Till
Shrill
Wings
Lark

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A bargain is a bargain.
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In arguing of the shadow, we forgo the substance.
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To give reason for fancy were to weigh the fire, and measure the wind.
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Where the mind is past hope, the heart is past shame.
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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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The true measure of life is not length, but honesty.
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Thou shalt come out of a warme Sunne into God's blessing.
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Long quaffing maketh a short lyfe.
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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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A comely olde man as busie as a bee.
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Far more seemly to have thy study full of books, than thy purse full of money.
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Water runneth smoothest where it is deepest.
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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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For experience teacheth me that straight trees have crooked roots.
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In misery it is great comfort to have a companion.
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The broken bone, once set together, is stronger than ever.
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The slothful are always ready to engage in idle talk of what will be done tomorrow, and every day after.
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The tongue, the ambassador of the heart.
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A new broome sweepeth cleane.
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If love be a god, why should not lovers be virtuous?
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