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Anarchy is the sure consequence of tyranny for no power that is not limited by laws can ever be protected by them.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Sure
Protected
Freedom
Limited
Power
Tyranny
Ever
Consequence
Laws
Revolution
Democracy
Law
Anarchy

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Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties.
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These eyes, tho' clear To outward view of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot, Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, not bate a jot Of heart or hope but still bear up and steer Right onward.
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Beauty is God's handwriting-a wayside sacrament.
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If weakness may excuse, What murderer, what traitor, parricide, Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it? All wickedness is weakness that plea, therefore, With God or man will gain thee no remission.
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Time, though in Eternity, applied To motion, measures all things durable By present, past, and future.
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And to the faithful: death, the gate of life.
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His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less than archangel ruin'd, and th' excess Of glory obscur'd.
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Hell has no benefits, only torture.
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The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.
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Where shame is, there is also fear.
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The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
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To overcome in battle, and subdue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite Man-slaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory.
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Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones.
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The teachers of our law, and to propose What might improve my knowledge or their own.
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But O yet more miserable! Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave.
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Let not England forget her precedence of teaching nations how to live.
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Evil, be thou my good.
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Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
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Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
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Yet hold it more humane, more heav'nly, first, By winning words to conquer willing hearts, And make persuasion do the work of fear.
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