John Milton Quotes
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The conquer'd, also, and enslaved by war, Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose.
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Last came, and last did go,The Pilot of the Galilean lake;Two massy keys he bore of metals twain,(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).
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Come, pensive nun, devout and pure, sober steadfast, and demure, all in a robe of darkest grain, flowing with majestic train.
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He alone is worthy of the appellation who either does great things, or teaches how they may be done, or describes them with a suitable majesty when they have been done; but those only are great things which tend to render life more happy, which increase the innocent enjoyments and comforts of existence, or which pave the way to a state of future bliss more permanent and more pure.
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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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Such sober certainty of waking bliss.
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Education of youth is not a bow for every man to shoot in that counts himself a teacher; but will require sinews almost equal to those which Homer gave to Ulysses.
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From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, But rush upon me thronging.
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Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his dignity, And the regard of Heav'n on all his ways.
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For the air of youth, Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life.
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Then to the spicy nut-brown ale.
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He 's gone, and who knows how he may report Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?
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Under the opening eyelids of the morn,We drove afield; and both together heardWhat time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn,Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night.
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Behold the kings of the Earth how they oppressThy chosen, to what highth thir pow'r unjustThey have exalted, and behind them castAll fear of thee, arise and vindicateThy Glory, free thy people from thir yoke
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Time will run back and fetch the Age of Gold.
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Every cloud has a silver lining.
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Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods thyself a Goddess.
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Where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes, That comes to all.
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Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves.
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The bird of Jove, stoop'd from his aery tour, Two birds of gayest plume before him drove.
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This is the month, and this the happy morn,Wherein the Son of Heav'n's eternal King,Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,Our great redemption from above did bring;For so the holy sages once did sing,That He our deadly forfeit should release,And with His Father work us a perpetual peace.
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Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
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Confidence imparts a wonderful inspiration to the possessor.
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What hath night to do with sleep?