John Milton Quotes
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When I consider how my light is spent,Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,And that one talent which is death to hideLodged with me useless.
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Morn, Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand Unbarr'd the gates of light.
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Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou livest, Live well; how long, or short, permit to Heaven.
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Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
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The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous humRuns through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine,With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.No nightly trance or breathed spellInspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
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How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
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The conquer'd, also, and enslaved by war, Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose.
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Time will run back and fetch the Age of Gold.
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Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale gessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well attir'd woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears: Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
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Every cloud has a silver lining.
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Joking decides great things, Stronger and better oft than earnest can.
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In mirth that after no repenting draws.
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It is not hard for any man who hath a Bible in his hand to borrow good words and holy sayings in abundance; but to make them his own is a work of grace only from above.
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That practis'd falsehood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge.
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Madam, methinks I see him living yet;So well your words his noble virtues praise,That all both judge you to relate them true,And to possess them, honour'd Margaret.
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Let us no more contend, nor blame each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten each other's burden.
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If all the world Should in a pet of temperance, feed on pulse, Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze, Th' All-giver would be unthank'd, would be unprais'd.
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O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.
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Angels contented with their face in heaven, Seek not the praise of men.
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No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.
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The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,But, swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:Besides what the grim wolf with privy pawDaily devours apace, and nothing said;But that two-handed engine at the doorStands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
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With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded.
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Accuse not nature: she hath done her part; Do thou but thine.
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License they mean when they cry, Liberty!For who loves that must first be wise and good.