Quote

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.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Hate
Sphere
Tell
Spheres
States
Fell
Glorious
Thee
Sun
Beams
Bring
Beam
State
Remembrance

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For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.
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It were a journey like the path to heaven, To help you find them.
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Come knit hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round
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Beauty is God's handwriting-a wayside sacrament.
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Confidence imparts a wonderful inspiration to the possessor.
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Blind mouths! That scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook.
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All seemed well pleased, all seemed, but were not all.
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O Conscience, into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me, out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged.
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This horror will grow mild, this darkness light Besides what hope the never-ending flight Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting--since our present lot appears For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, If we procure not to ourselves more woe.
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Thy actions to thy words accord thy words To thy large heart give utterance due thy heart Contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.
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So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap.
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Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss
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Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony.
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If weakness may excuse, What murderer, what traitor, parricide, Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it? All wickedness is weakness that plea, therefore, With God or man will gain thee no remission.
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The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith makes up the highest perfection.
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Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.
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The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
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O when meet now Such pairs, in love and mutual honour joined?
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To overcome in battle, and subdue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite Man-slaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory.
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A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, And pavement stars,--as stars to thee appear Seen in the galaxy, that milky way Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars.
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