Quote

I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Eternal
Taught
Dark
Heav
Night
Sung
Descent
Muse
Venture
Chaos

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The never-ending flight Of future days.
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And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.
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Aristotle ... imputed this symphony of the heavens ... this music of the spheres to Pythagorus. ... But Pythagoras alone of mortals is said to have heard this harmony ... If our hearts were as pure, as chaste, as snowy as Pythagoras' was, our ears would resound and be filled with that supremely lovely music of the wheeling stars.
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Among the writers of all ages, some deserve fame, and have it others neither have nor deserve it some have it, not deserving it others, though deserving it, yet totally miss it, or have it not equal to their deserts.
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True it is that covetousness is rich, modesty starves.
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Love Virtue, she alone is free, She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.
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O madness to think use of strongest wines And strongest drinks our chief support of health, When God with these forbidden made choice to rear His mighty champion, strong above compare, Whose drink was only from the liquid brook.
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Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed.
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Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold that shall befall Him or his children.
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If we think we regulate printing, thereby to rectify manners, we must regulate all regulations and pastimes, all that is delightful to man.
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Th'invention all admir'd, and each, how he to be th'inventor miss'd so easy it seem'd once found, which yet unfound most would have thought impossible.
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Reason also is choice.
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The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
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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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The love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well.
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Calm of mind, all passion spent.
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None But such as are good men can give good things, And that which is not good, is not delicious To a well-govern'd and wise appetite.
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The planets in their station list'ning stood.
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You can make hell out of heaven and heaven out of hell. It's all in the mind.
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Spirits when they please Can either sex assume, or both.
John Milton