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All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Revenge
Courage
Study
Hate
Lost
Unconquerable
Never
Submit
Yield
Immortal

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Prudence is the virtue by which we discern what is proper to do under various circumstances in time and place.
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Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls his watery labyrinth, which whoso drinks forgets both joy and grief.
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The strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.
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Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.
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The teachers of our law, and to propose What might improve my knowledge or their own.
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Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd.
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A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.
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Yet some there be that by due steps aspire To lay their just hands on that golden key That opes the palace of Eternity.
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Myself, and all the Angelic Host, that stand in the sight of God enthroned, our happy state hold, as you yours, while our obedience hold. On other surety none: freely we serve, because we freely love.
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Believe and be confirmed.
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Fairy damsels met in forest wide / By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, / Lancelot or Pelleas, or Pellenore.
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Ah gentle pair, ye little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy.
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So little knows Any, but God alone, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to their meanest use.
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Let us seek Death, or he not found, supply With our own hands his office on ourselves Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That show no end but death, and have the power, Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, Destruction with destruction to destroy.
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How oft, in nations gone corrupt, And by their own devices brought down to servitude, That man chooses bondage before liberty. Bondage with ease before strenuous liberty.
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Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, in every gesture dignity and love.
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Th' ethereal mould Incapable of stain would soon expel Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope Is flat despair.
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O fairest of creation, last and best Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled Whatever can to sight or thought be formed, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost, Defaced, deflow'red, and now to death devote? Paradise Lost
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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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By this time, like one who had set out on his way by night, and travelled through a region of smooth or idle dreams, our history now arrives on the confines, where daylight and truth meet us with a clear dawn, representing to our view, though at a far distance, true colours and shapes.
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