Our swords shall play the orators for us.
Our swords shall play the orators for us.
What doctrine call you this, Che sera, sera, What will be, shall be.
Ah fair Zenocrate, divine Zenocrate, Fair is too foul an epithet for thee.
Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
Goodness is beauty in the best estate.
Like unturned golden strings all women are Which long time lie untouched, will harshly jar.
You stars that reigned at my nativity, whose influence hath allotted death and hell.
Goodness is beauty in its best estate.
Money can't buy love, but it improves your bargaining position.
While money doesn't buy love, it puts you in a great bargaining position.
Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness.
Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burnt the topless towers of Ileum?
Here come two religious caterpillars.
Then let some holy trance convey my thoughts,
Up to the palace of th'imperial heaven:
That this my life may be as short to me
As are the days of sweet Zenocrate.
Why this is hell, nor am I out of it Thinkst thou that I who saw the face of God, And tasted the eternal joys of heaven, Am not tormented with ten thousand hells In being deprived of everlasting bliss ... When all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All places shall be hell that are not heaven.
O soul, be changed into little waterdrops, And fall into the ocean, ne'er be found
Confess and be hanged.
We will all the pleasures prove.
I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.
As their wealth increaseth, so enclose Infinite riches in a little room.
Accursed be he that first invented war.
I'll have them fly to India for gold, Ransack the ocean for orient pearl.
When all the world dissolves, And every creature shall be purified, All place shall be hell that is not heaven.
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss Her lips suck forth my soul see, where it flies Come Helen, come give me my soul again. Here will I dwell, for heaven be in these lips, And all is dross that is not Helena.
What feeds me destroys me.
Virtue is the fount whence honour springs.
Ugly hell, gape not come not, Lucifer I'll burn my books
Sweet Analytics 'tis thou has ravished me.
Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?
There is no sin but ignorance.
O, thou art fairer than the evening air clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.
Live and die in Aristotle's works.
All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.
Is it not passing brave to be a King and ride in triumph through Persepolis?
Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.
Accurst be he that first invented war.
Above our life we love a steadfast friend.
Things that are not at all, are never lost.
And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies.
Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place, for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be.
That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
I'm armed with more than complete steel, - The justice of my quarrel.
It lies not in our power to love or hate, For will in us is over-ruled by fate.
Now hast thou but one bare hour to live And then thou must be damned perpetually Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven, That time may cease and midnight never come.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories