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John (dramatist) Ford
Quote #9
Philosophers dwell in the moon.
More from John (dramatist) Ford
Melancholy Is not, as you conceive, indisposition Of body, but the mind's disease.
Love is the tyrant of the heart; it darkens Reason, confounds discretion; deaf to Counsel It runs a headlong course to desperate madness.
Tell us, pray, what devil This melancholy is, which can transform Men into monsters.
Fly hence, shadows, that do keep, Watchful sorrows, charmed in sleep.
Physicians are the cobblers, rather the botchers, of men's bodies; as the one patches our tattered clothes, so the other solders our diseas…
Tempt not the stars, young man, thou canst not play With the severity of fate.
Flattery Is monstrous in a true friend.
I am, gay creature, With pardon of your deities, a mushroom On whom the dew of heaven drops now and then.
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