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Nor love thy life, nor hate but what thou livest, Live well how long, or short, permit to Heaven.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Wells
Well
Long
Permit
Love
Thou
Life
Short
Heaven
Hate
Live

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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.
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Oft, on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-watered shore, Swinging low with sullen roar.
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Rhime being no necessary Adjunct or true Ornament of Poem or good Verse, in longer Works especially, but the Invention of a barbarous Age, to set off wretched matter and lame Meeter...the troublesom and modern bondage of Rimeing.
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Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame,-nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
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Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces.
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Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth.
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His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command. Ibid.
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The conquer'd, also, and enslaved by war, Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose.
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The teachers of our law, and to propose What might improve my knowledge or their own.
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It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit, Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit, That woman's love can win, or long inherit But what it is, hard is to say, Harder to hit.
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Our cure, to be no more sad cure!
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Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
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So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And in clear dream and solemn vision Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape.
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The strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.
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Day and night, Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary frost Shall hold their course, till fire purge all things new.
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Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed.
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Time is the subtle thief of youth.
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Who can in reason then or right assume monarchy over such as live by right his equals, if in power or splendor less, in freedom equal?
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Subdue By force, who reason for their law refuse, Right reason for their law.
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True it is that covetousness is rich, modesty starves.
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