John Milton Quotes
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Infinity is a dark illimitable ocean, without bound.
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When the gust hath blown his fill,Ending on the rustling leavesWith minute drops from off the eaves.
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I must not quarrel with the will Of highest dispensation, which herein, Haply had ends above my reach to know.
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Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
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Praise from an enemy smells of craft.
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There is no Christian duty that is not to be seasoned and set off with cheerishness, which in a thousand outward and intermitting crosses may yet be done well, as in this vale of tears.
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Better to reign in hell than serve in heav'n.
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Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold that shall befall Him or his children.
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Spirits that live throughout, Vital in every part, not as frail man, In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins, Cannot but by annihilating die.
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God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait.
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Alas! What boots it with uncessant care To tend the homely slighted Shepherd's trade, And strictly meditate the thankless muse; Were it not better done as others use, To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights, and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with th'abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life.
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Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me?
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Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son
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Take heed lest passion sway Thy judgement to do aught, which else free will Would not admit.
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See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds, With joy and love triumphing.
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How often from the steep Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to other's note, Singing their great Creator?
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I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known rules of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.
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But O the heavy change, now thou art gone,Now thou art gone and never must return!
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Untwisting all the chains that tieThe hidden soul of harmony.
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These evils I deserve, and more . . . . Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon, Whose ear is ever open, and his eye Gracious to re-admit the suppliant.
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Then lies him down the lubber fiend,And stretched out all the chimney's length,Basks at the fire his hairy strength.
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Awake, arise or be for ever fall in.
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On a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder.
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This is servitude, To serve th' unwise, or him who hath rebelled Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee, Thyself not free, but to thyself enthralled.