John Milton Quotes
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In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against Nature not to go out, and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.
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See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds, With joy and love triumphing.
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With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded.
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Nothing lovelier can be found In woman, than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote.
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Ere the blabbing eastern scout, The nice morn, on th' Indian steep From her cabin'd loop-hole peep.
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Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image, but thee who destroys a good book, kills reason its self.
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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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And yet on the other hand unless warinesse be us'd, as good almost kill a Man as kill a good Book; who kills a Man kills a reasonable creature, Gods Image, but hee who destroyes a good Booke, kills reason it selfe, kills the Image of God, as it were in the eye.
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O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.
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Extol not riches then, the toil of fools, The wise man's cumbrance, if not snare, more apt To slacken virtue, and abate her edge, Than prompt her to do aught may merit praise.
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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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He 's gone, and who knows how he may report Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?
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Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.
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Or call up him that left half toldThe story of Cambuscan bold.
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Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were, in the eye.
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Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation.
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Last came, and last did go,The Pilot of the Galilean lake;Two massy keys he bore of metals twain,(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).
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Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind.
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Better to reign in hell than serve in heav'n.
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The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
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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.
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He who freely magnifies what hath been nobly done, and fears not to declares as freely what might be done better, gives ye the best covenant of his fidelity.
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Accuse not nature: she hath done her part; Do thou but thine.
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Believe and be confirmed.