Evelyn Ashford Quote

Daisy Ashford Quote

Daisy Ashford Quote

Daisy Ashford Quote

Daisy Ashford Quote

Blow, blow, thou winter wind! Thou art not so unkind as Man's ingratitude.

And so from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, and then, from hour to hour,we rot and rot; and thereby hangs a tale.

Under the greenwood tree who loves to lie with me... Here shall he see no enemy but winter and rough weather.

Thou art not for the fashion of these times, where none will sweat but for promotion.

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

Those that she makes fair she scarce makes honest; and those that she makes honest she makes very ill-favouredly.

Make not your thoughts your prisons.

O sovereign mistress of true melancholy.

Wishers were ever fools.

Patience is sottish, and impatience does become a dog that's mad.

Is it sin to rush into the secret house of death, ere death dare come to us?

There is left us ourselves to end ourselves.

Ambition, the soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, than gain which darkens him.

The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown, is often left unloved.

Though it be honest, it is never good to bring bad news: give to a gracious message an host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell themselves when they be felt.