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Solitude sometimes is best society.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Companionship
Solitude
Society
Best
Sometimes

More quotes by John Milton

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Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread.
John Milton
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As children gath'ring pebbles on the shore. Or if I would delight my private hours With music or with poem, where so soon As in our native language can I find That solace?
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And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience to attain To something like prophetic strain.
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Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine.
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Witness this new-made world, another Heav'n From Heaven Gate not farr, founded in view On the clear Hyaline, the Glassie Sea Of amplitude almost immense, with Starr's Numerous, and every Starr perhaps a world Of destined habitation.
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As in an organ from one blast of wind To many a row of pipes the soundboard breathes.
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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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Now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd,-wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse.
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Evil into the mind of god or man may come and go, so unapproved, and leave no spot or blame behind.
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Where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mast'ry.
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Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north - wind's breath, And stars to set but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
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True it is that covetousness is rich, modesty starves.
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Ink is the blood of the printing-press.
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Those graceful acts, those thousand decencies, that daily flow from all her words and actions, mixed with love and sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned union of mind, or in us both one soul.
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What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Of Attic taste?
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Heav'nly love shall outdoo Hellish hate
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Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.
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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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Hide me from day's garish eye.
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Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.
John Milton