John Milton Quotes
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Tears such as angels weep.
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Prudence is the virtue by which we discern what is proper to do under various circumstances in time and place.
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Peace hath her victoriesNo less renowned than war.
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Zeal and duty are not slow But on occasion's forelock watchful wait.
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And what is faith, love, virtue unassayed Alone, without exterior help sustained?
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My rising is thy fall
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Few sometimes may know, when thousands err.
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Good luck befriend thee, Son; for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
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O why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest heav'n With Spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With men as angels without feminine, Or find some other way to generate Mankind?
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The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear So charming left his voice, that he awhile Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.
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Here we may reign secure; and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in hell: Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
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The spirits perverse with easy intercourse pass to and fro, to tempt or punish mortals.
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Fly, envious Time, till thou run out thy race:Call on the lazy leaden-stepping Hours,Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace;And glut thyself with what thy womb devours,Which is no more than what is false and vain,And merely mortal dross.
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Hence vain deluding Joys,The brood of Folly without father bred!
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Biochemically, love is just like eating large amounts of chocolate.
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With diadem and sceptre high advanced, The lower still I fall; only supreme In misery; such joy ambition finds.
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Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.
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Him that yon soars on golden wing, guiding the fiery-wheelèd throne, the Cherub Contemplation.
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And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.
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Though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously by licensing and prohibiting to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter.
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No date prefixed directs me in the starry rubric set.
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Deep-versed in books and shallow in himself.
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Sweetest Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell, By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale.
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Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.