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Where no hope is left, is left no fear.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Failure
Hope
Fear
Inspirational
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It was the winter wild, While the Heaven-born child, All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies.
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Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.
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Seas wept from our deep sorrows.
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Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.
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With thee conversing I forget all time.
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Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.
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Dim eclipse, disastrous twilight.
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Necessity and chance Approach not me, and what I will is fate.
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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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It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark.
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The starry cope Of heaven.
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What is dark within me, illumine.
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The redundant locks, robustious to no purpose, clustering down--vast monument of strength.
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How often from the steep Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to other's note, Singing their great Creator?
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Good luck befriend thee, Son for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
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It is Chastity, my brother. She that has that is clad in complete steel.
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His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command. Ibid.
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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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But oh the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return!
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Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind.
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