John Webster

Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust, like diamonds we are cut with our own dust.

In all our quest of greatness, like wanton boys, whose pastime is their care, we follow after bubbles, blown in the air.

All things do help the unhappy man to fall.

We are merely the stars tennis-balls, struck and bandied which way please them.

When I go to hell, I mean to carry a bribe: for look you, good gifts evermore make way for the worst persons.

Integrity of life is fame's best friend, which nobly, beyond death, shall crown in the end.

Man is most happy, when his own actions are arguments and examples of his virtue.

For the subtlest folly proceeds from the subtlest wisdom.

Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.

That friend a great man's ruin strongly checks, who rails into his belief all his defects.