Poetry is the honey of all flowers, the quintessence of all sciences, the marrow of wit, and the very phrase of angels. — Thomas Nashe Copy Share Image
Fair summer droops, droop men and beasts therefore: So fair a summer look for never more. All good things vanish, less than in a… — Thomas Nashe Copy Share Image
Beauty is but a flower Which wrinkles will devour; Brightness falls from the air; Queens have died young and fair; Dust hath closed Helen's… — Thomas Nashe Copy Share Image
“There is not a room in anie mans house, but is pestred and close packed with a camp royeale of divels.” — Thomas Nashe Copy Share Image
The Sun shineth as well on the good as the bad: God from on high beholdeth all the workers of iniquity, as well as… — Thomas Nashe Copy Share Image
“Grosse plodders they were all, that had some learning and reading, but no wit to make use of it.” — Thomas Nashe Copy Share Image
Poetry is the honey of all flowers, the quintessence of all sciences, the marrow of wit, and the very phrase of angels. — Thomas Nashe Copy Share Image
Immortal Spenser, no frailty hath thy fame but the imputation of this idiot's friendship! — Thomas Nashe Copy Share Image
Beauty is but a flower which wrinkles will devour; Brightness falls from the air — Thomas Nashe Copy Share Image
New herrings, new!' we must cry, every time we make ourselves public, or else we shall be christened with a hundred new titles of… — Thomas Nashe Copy Share Image
“Destiny never defames herself but when she lets an excellent poet die.” — Thomas Nashe Copy Share Image
Our learning ought to be our lives' amendment, and the fruits of our private study ought to appear in our public behavior. — Thomas Nashe Copy Share Image
