Thomas Campion quotes:

Secret fates Guide our states Both in mirth and mourning.

Let now the chimneys blaze And cups o'erflow with wine; Let well-tuned words amaze With harmony divine....

Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.

All our pride is but a jest. None are worst and none are best. Grief and hope and joy and fear Play their pageant everywhere.

Beauty is not beauty without love.

Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow.

Fortune, honour, beauty, youth, Are but blossoms dying; Wanton pleasures, doting love, Are but shadows flying.

Kind are her answers, But her performance keeps no day; Breaks time, as dancers. From their own Music when they stray.

There is a garden in her eyes, where roses and white lilies flow.

If all would lead their lives in love like me, Then bloody swords and armor should not be; No drum nor trumpet peaceful sleeps should move, Unless alarm came from the camp of love.

A prudent pharmacist often vends something for your complaint. But wine merchant you do this invariably.

My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, And though the sager sort our deeds reprove, Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive Into their west, and straight again revive, But soon as once set is our little light, Then must we sleep one ever-during night. See Catullus 200:5.

Time's fatal wings do ever forward fly; to every day we live, a day we die.

Fain would I wed a fair young man that night and day could please me, When my mind or body grieved that had the power to ease me. Maids are full of longing thoughtsthat breed a bloodless sickness, And that, oft I hear men say, is only cured by quickness.

From heav'nly thoughts all true delight doth spring.

Let now the chimneys blaze And cups o'erflow with wine... The summer hath his joys, And winter his delights; Though love and all his pleasures are but toys, They shorten tedious nights.

Lost is our freedom When we submit to women so: Why do we need 'em When, in their best, they work our woe?

Never love unless you can bear with all the faults of man!

The man whose silent daysIn harmless joys are spent,Whom hopes cannot delude,Nor sorrow discontent:That man needs neither towersNor armour for defence,Nor secret vaults to flyFrom thunder's violence.

Thou shalt prove That beauty is no beauty without love.

Yet I would not die a maid, because I had a mother, As I was by one brought forth, I would bring forth another.