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So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair that ever since in love's embraces met -- Adam, the goodliest man of men since born his sons the fairest of her daughters Eve.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Since
Pairs
Born
Adam
Hands
Passed
Loveliest
Ever
Mets
Fairest
Men
Son
Embraces
Love
Embrace
Daughters
Daughter
Pair
Hand
Sons

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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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In vain doth valour bleed, While Avarice and Rapine share the land.
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We read not that Christ ever exercised force but once and that was to drive profane ones out of his Temple, not to force them in.
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There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.
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Seas wept from our deep sorrows.
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Her silent course advance With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps On her soft axle.
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Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves.
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Virtue that wavers is not virtue.
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Necessity and chance Approach not me, and what I will is fate.
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The love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well.
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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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The end of all learning is to know God, and out of that knowledge to love and imitate Him.
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And the earth self-balanced on her centre hung.
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But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloisters pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight Casting a dim religious light.
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For to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.
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Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
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But O yet more miserable! Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave.
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So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
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