John Milton Quotes
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Each tree Laden with fairest fruit, that hung to th' eye Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite To pluck and eat.
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No war or battle sound Was heard the world around.
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The stars, that nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps with everlasting oil, give due light to the misled and lonely traveller.
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If at great things thou would'st arrive, Get riches first, get wealth, and treasure heap, Not difficult, if thou hearken to me; Riches are mine, fortune is in my hand, They whom I favor thrive in wealth amain, While virtue, valor, wisdom, sit in want.
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Ornate rhetoric thought out of the rule of Plato... To which poetry would be made subsequent, or indeed rather precedent, as being less subtle and fine, but more simple, sensuous, and passionate.
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And the earth self-balanced on her centre hung.
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It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit, Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit, That woman's love can win, or long inherit; But what it is, hard is to say, Harder to hit.
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From haunted spring and daleEdged with poplar paleThe parting genius is with sighing sent.
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How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence through the empty-vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven down Of darkness till it smiled!
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Govern well thy appetite, lest Sin surprise thee, and her black attendant Death.
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Oft, on a plat of rising ground,I hear the far-off curfew soundOver some wide-watered shore,Swinging low with sullen roar.
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There is nothing that making men rich and strong but that which they carry inside of them. True wealth is of the heart, not of the hand.
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Evil, be thou my good.
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Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd.
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A short retirement urges a sweet return.
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Ladies, whose bright eyesRain influence, and judge the prize.
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Virtue that wavers is not virtue, but vice revolted from itself, and after a while returning. The actions of just and pious men do not darken in their middle course.
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But say That death be not one stroke, as I supposed, Bereaving sense, but endless misery From this day onward, which I feel begun Both in me, and without me, and so last To perpetuity; ay me, that fear Comes thund'ring back with dreadful revolution On my defenceless head; both Death and I Am found eternal, and incorporate both, Nor I on my part single, in me all Paradise Lost Posterity stands cursed: fair patrimony That I must leave ye, sons; O were I able To waste it all myself, and leave ye none!
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Contemplation is wisdom's best nurse.
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But see! theVirgin blessed Hath laid her Babe to rest. Time is our tedious song should here have ending.
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And every shepherd tells his taleUnder the hawthorn in the dale.
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There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
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In contemplation of created things, by steps we may ascend to God.
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Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?