John Milton Quotes
-
Goodness thinks no ill Where no ill seems.
-
The great creator from his work returned Magnificent, his six days' work, a world.
-
The other shape, If shape it might be call'd that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb; Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd, For each seem'd either,--black it stood as night, Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell, And shook a dreadful dart; what seem'd his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on. Satan was now at hand.
-
Death Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hear His famine should be fill'd.
-
Temper justice with mercy.
-
What better can we do than prostrate fall before Him reverent, and there confess humbly our faults, and pardon beg with tears watering the ground?
-
You can make hell out of heaven and heaven out of hell. It's all in the mind.
-
Have hungMy dank and dropping weedsTo the stern god of sea.
-
Freely we serve, Because we freely love, as in our will To love or not; in this we stand or fall.
-
Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.
-
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.
-
One sip of this will bathe the drooping spirits in delight, beyond the bliss of dreams.
-
The very essence of truth is plainness and brightness; the darkness and crookedness is our own. The wisdom of God created understanding, fit and proportionable to truth, the object and end of it, as the eye to the thing visible. If our understanding have a film of ignorance over it, or be blear with gazing on other false glitterings, what is that to truth?
-
I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.
-
Anger and just rebuke, and judgment given, That brought into this world a world of woe, Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery, Death's harbinger.
-
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.
-
I hate when vice can bolt her arguments, And virtue has no tongue to check her pride.
-
The childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day.
-
Thou art my father, thou my author, thou my being gav'st me; whom should I obey but thee, whom follow?
-
So he with difficulty and labour hard Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour he.
-
He who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things ought himself to be a true poem.
-
For what can war, but endless war, still breed?
-
Our cure, to be no more; sad cure!
-
Among unequals what society Can sort, what harmony, or true delight?