John Milton Quotes
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Heaven, the seat of bliss, Brooks not the works of violence and war.
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For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains,And disapproves that care, though wise in show,That with superfluous burden loads the day,And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
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Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.
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So shall the world go on, To good malignant, to bad men benign, Under her own weight groaning.
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Our two first parents, yet the only two Of mankind, in the happy garden placed, Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love, Uninterrupted joy, unrivalled love In blissful solitude.
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At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue:Tomorrow to fresh woods and pastures new.
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Pandemonium, the high capital Of Satan and his peers.
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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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He who reigns within himself and rules passions, desires, and fears is more than a king.
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The brazen throat of war.
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Boast not of what thou would'st have done, but do.
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He that has light within his own clear breast May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day: But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; Himself his own dungeon.
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And if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of Him who all things can, I would not cease To weary Him with my assiduous cries.
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A man may be ungrateful, but the human race is not so.
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Now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd,-wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse.
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Just deeds are the best answer to injurious words.
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A grateful mind/ By owing owes not, but still pays, at once/ Indebted and discharg'd.
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Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,Where thou perhaps under the whelming tideVisit'st the bottom of the monstrous world.
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Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?
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Some say no evil thing that walks by night, In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, No goblin, or swart fairy of the mine, Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity.
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Implied Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd,- Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.
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This is servitude, To serve the unwise.
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I walk unseenOn the dry smooth-shaven green,To behold the wandering moon,Riding near her highest noon,Like one that had been led astrayThrough the heav'n's wide pathless way,And oft, as if her head she bowed,Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
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First Moloch, horrid king, besmirched in blood, Of Human sacrifice, and parent's tears, Though, for the noise of drums and timbrels loud, Their childrens' cries unheard, that passed through fire, To his grim idol.