George Chapman Quotes - Page 2

Who to himself is law no law doth need; offends none and is king indeed.

Tis immortality to die aspiring, As if a man were taken quick to heaven.

He that shuns trifles must shun the world.

News as wholesome as the morning air.

Perfect happiness, by princes sought, Is not with birth born, nor exchequers bought.

Extremes, though contrary, have the like effects. Extreme heat kills, and so extreme cold: extreme love breeds satiety, and so extreme hatred; and too violent rigor tempts chastity, as does too much license.

Enough 's as good as a feast.

Ignorance is the mother of admiration.

Poetry, unlike oratory, should not aim at clarity... but be dense with meaning, 'something to be chewed and digested'.

Each natural agent works but to this end,- To render that it works on like itself.

Virtue is not malicious; wrong done her Is righted even when men grant they err.

Pure innovation is more gross than error.

I pray, what flowers are these? The pansy this, O, that's for lover's thoughts.

So our lives In acts exemplary, not only win Ourselves good names, but doth to others give Matter for virtuous deeds, by which we live.

Black is a pearl in a woman's eye.

Be free all worthy spirits, and stretch yourselves, for greatness and for height.

And let a scholar all earth's volumes carry, he will be but a walking dictionary: a mere articulate clock.

Make ducks and drakes with shillings.

Words writ in waters.

For one heat, all know, doth drive out another, One passion doth expel another still.

And for the authentical truth of either person or actions, who (worth the respecting) will expect it in a poem, whose subject is not truth, but things like truth? Poor envious souls they are that cavil at truth's want in these natural fictions; material instruction, elegant and sententious excitation to virtue, and deflection from her contrary, being the soul, limbs, and limits of an authentical tragedy.

Blood, though it sleep a time, yet never dies. The gods on murtherers fix revengeful eyes.

Man is a torch borne in the wind; a dream But of a shadow, summed with all his substance.

He is at no end of his actions blestWhose ends will make him greatest, and not best.