Dramatist Quotes

I stick my neck out for nobody. I'm the only cause I'm interested in.

What a heaven is love! O what a hell!

Were there no women, men might live like gods.

This world, after all our science and sciences, is still a miracle; wonderful, inscrutable, magical and more, to whosoever will think of it.

This age thinks better of a gilded fool Than of a threadbare saint in wisdom's school.

Surely man was not created to be an idle fellow; he was not set in this universal orchard to stand still as a tree.

Sleep is that golden chain that ties health and our bodies together.

O what a heaven is love! O what a hell!

Honest labor bears a lovely face.

Cast away care, he that loves sorrow Lengthens not a day, nor can buy tomorrow; Money is trash, and he that will spend it, Let him drink merrily, fortune will send it.

Age is like love, it cannot be hid.

We are ne'er like angels till our passion dies.

Golden slumbers kiss your eyes, Smiles awake you when you rise.

Arguments, like children, should be like the subject that begets them.

A mask of gold hides all deformities.

This principle is old, but true as fate, Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate.

The calmest husbands make the stormiest wives.

The fool inherits, but the wise must get.

Tell me not of joy: there's none Now my little sparrow's gone; He, just as you, Would toy and woo, He would chirp and flatter me, He would hang the wing awhile, Till at length he saw me smile, Lord! how sullen he would be!

Love makes those young whom age doth chill, and whom he finds young keeps young still.

There are two births: the one when light, First strikes the new awakened sense; The other when two souls unite, And we must count our life from thence, When you loved me and I loved you, Then both of us were born anew.

'Tis not where we lie, but whence we fell; the loss of heaven's the greatest pain in hell.

For even in dreams a good deed is not lost.

What law, what reason can deny that gift so sweet, so natural that God has given a stream, a fish, a beast, a bird?

These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.

For all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams.

One may know how to gain a victory, and know not how to use it.

What is life? A madness. What is life? An illusion, a shadow, a story. And the greatest good is little enough; for all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams.

But whether it be dream or truth, to do well is what matters. If it be truth, for truth's sake. If not, then to gain friends for the time when we awaken.

When love is not madness, it is not love.