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Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Fall
Stood
Sufficient
Though
Freedom
Free

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Joking decides great things, Stronger and better oft than earnest can.
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Ornate rhetorick taught out of the rule of Plato.... To which poetry would be made subsequent, or indeed rather precedent, as being less suttle and fine, but more simple, sensuous, and passionate.
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His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
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So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,Farewell remorse: all good to me is lostEvil,be thou my good.
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Now came still evening on and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied for beast and bird, They to they grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
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But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began.
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So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease Gathered, not harshly plucked, for death mature: This is old age but then thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change To withered weak and grey.
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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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Such sober certainty of waking bliss.
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Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.
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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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Those whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
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To know that which lies before us in daily life is the prime wisdom.
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Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.
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Suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.
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Good luck befriend thee, Son for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
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A short retirement urges a sweet return.
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Impostor do not charge most innocent Nature, As if she would her children should be riotous With her abundance she, good cateress, Means her provision only to the good, That live according to her sober laws, And holy dictate of spare temperance.
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Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper.
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What if Earth be but the shadow of Heaven and things therein - each other like, more than on Earth is thought?
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