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Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Truth
Sunbeam
Soiled
Sunbeams
Outward
Touch
Impossible
Inspirational

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Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown in courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, where most may wonder at the workmanship.
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Freely we serve, Because we freely love, as in our will To love or not in this we stand or fall.
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Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
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Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium.
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Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth With such a full and unwithdrawing hand, Covering the earth with odours, fruits, flocks, Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, But all to please and sate the curious taste?
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God sure esteems the growth and completing of one virtuous person, more that the restraint of ten vicious.
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For so I created them free and free they must remain.
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Blind mouths! That scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook.
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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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Those whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
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The helmed Cherubim, And sworded Seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd.
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Law can discover sin, but not remove, Save by those shadowy expiations weak.
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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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A good book is the precious lifeblood of a master spirit.
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Implied Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd,- Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.
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Ah gentle pair, ye little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy.
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The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
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Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit/Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste/Brought death into the world, and all our woe,/With loss of Eden, till one greater Man/Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,/Sing heavenly muse
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And some are fall'n, to disobedience fall'n, And so from Heav'n to deepest Hell O fall From what high state of bliss into what woe!
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Thrones, dominions, princedoms, virtues, powers-- If these magnific titles yet remain Not merely titular.
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