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O you virtuous owle, The wise Minerva's only fowle.

Philip Sidney

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Philip Sidney
Age: 31 †
Born: 1554
Born: November 30
Died: 1586
Died: October 17
Diplomat
Military Personnel
Novelist
Poet
Politician
Kent
England
Sir Philip Sidney
Wise
Minerva
Virtuous

More quotes by Philip Sidney

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Fearfulness, contrary to all other vices, maketh a man think the better of another, the worse of himself.
Philip Sidney
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Who shoots at the mid-day sun, though he be so sure he shall never hit the mark, yet as sure as he is, he shall shoot higher than he who aims at a bush.
Philip Sidney
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It is cruelty in war that buyeth conquest.
Philip Sidney
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Liking is not always the child of beauty but whatsoever is liked, to the liker is beautiful.
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Fear is far more painful to cowardice than death to true courage.
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In the performance of a good action, we not only benefit ourselves, but we confer a blessing upon others.
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A noble cause doth ease much a grievous case.
Philip Sidney
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Weigh not so much what men assert, as what they prove. Truth is simple and naked, and needs not invention to apparel her comeliness.
Philip Sidney
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**Did you realize how much a kiss says, Philip???** Oh My Angel I doooo....A KISS is the beginning of, middle to, and end of most things I love about life.
Philip Sidney
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Ring out your bells! Let mourning show be spread! For Love is dead.
Philip Sidney
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Approved valor is made precious by natural courtesy.
Philip Sidney
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Ambition thinks no face so beautiful as that which looks from under a crown.
Philip Sidney
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It depends on education--that holder of the keys which the Almighty hath put into our hands--to open the gates which lead to virtue or to vice, to happiness or misery.
Philip Sidney
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We become willing servants to the good by the bonds their virtues lay upon us.
Philip Sidney
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A churlish courtesy rarely comes but either for gain or falsehood.
Philip Sidney
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There is nothing evil but what is within us the rest is either natural or accidental.
Philip Sidney
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Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?
Philip Sidney
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Ungratefulness is the very poison of manhood.
Philip Sidney
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And thou my minde aspire to higher things Grow rich in that which never taketh rust.
Philip Sidney
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But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay Invention, Nature's child, fled stepdame Study's blows And others' feet still seemed but strangers in my way. Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes, Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite: Fool, said my Muse to me, look in thy heart, and write.
Philip Sidney