John Milton Quotes
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But, O sad Virgin, that thy power Might raise Musaeus from his bower, Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as warbled to the string, Drew Iron tears down Pluto’s cheek, And made Hell grant what Love did seek.
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Our reason is our law.
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Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise. That last infirmity of noble mind. To scorn delights, and live laborious days.
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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.
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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; But prayer against his absolute decree No more avails than breath against the wind Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth: Therefore to his great bidding I submit.
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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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Hell has no benefits, only torture.
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Love Virtue, she alone is free, She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime; Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.
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Virtue, which breaks through opposition and all temptation can remove, most shines, and most is acceptable above.
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And, re-assembling our afflicted powers, consult how we may henceforth most offend.
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Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
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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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What wisdom can there be to choose, what continence to forbear without the knowledge of evil? He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true wayfaring Christian.
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Time, though in Eternity, applied To motion, measures all things durable By present, past, and future.
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Contemplation is wisdom's best nurse.
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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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And storied windows richly dight,Casting a dim religious light.There let the pealing organ blow,To the full-voiced choir below,In service high, and anthems clearAs may, with sweetness, through mine earDissolve me into ecstasies,And bring all heaven before mine eyes.
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There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
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The work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint.
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Then might ye see Cowls, hoods, and habits with their wearers tost And flutter'd into rags; then reliques, beads, Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls, The sport of winds; all these upwhirl'd aloft Fly to the rearward of the world far off Into a limbo large and broad, since called The paradise of fools.
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And the earth self-balanced on her centre hung.
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Day and night, Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary frost Shall hold their course, till fire purge all things new.
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I will point ye out the right path of a virtuous and noble Education; laborious indeed at first ascent, but else so smooth, so green, so full of goodly prospect, and melodious sounds on every side, that the harp of Orpheus was not more charming.
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Evil, be thou my good.