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He that has light within his own clear breast May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day: But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the mid-day sun Himself his own dungeon.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Walks
Hides
Within
Foul
Dark
Breast
Clear
Centre
Enjoy
Breasts
Benighted
Light
Bright
Dungeon
May
Sun
Bustle
Soul
Thoughts
Dungeons

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The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
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Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties.
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If at great things thou would'st arrive, Get riches first, get wealth, and treasure heap, Not difficult, if thou hearken to me Riches are mine, fortune is in my hand, They whom I favor thrive in wealth amain, While virtue, valor, wisdom, sit in want.
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Nor aught availed him now to have built in heaven high towers nor did he scrape by all his engines, but was headlong sent with his industrious crew to build in hell.
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O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white handed Hope, Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings.
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What honour that, But tedious waste of time, to sit and hear So many hollow compliments and lies.
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Eloquence the soul, song charms the senses.
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Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades High over-arch'd imbower.
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Just are the ways of God, And justifiable to men Unless there be who think not God at all.
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Here the great art lies, to discern in what the law is to be to restraint and punishment, and in what things persuasion only is to work.
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Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation.
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To many a youth and many a maid, dancing in the chequer'd shade.
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In vain doth valour bleed, While Avarice and Rapine share the land.
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And to thy husband's will Thine shall submit he over thee shall rule.
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Hate is of all things the mightiest divider, nay, is division itself. To couple hatred, therefore, though wedlock try all her golden links, and borrow to tier aid all the iron manacles and fetters of law, it does but seek to twist a rope of sand.
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They are the troublers, they are the dividers of unity, who neglect and don't permit others to unite those dissevered pieces which are yet wanting to the body of Truth.
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The redundant locks, robustious to no purpose, clustering down--vast monument of strength.
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How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
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The helmed Cherubim, And sworded Seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd.
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