Quote

This is the month, and this the happy morn, wherein the Son of heaven's eternal King, of wedded Maid and Virgin Mother born, our great redemption from above did bring.

John Milton

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Bring
Redemption
Heaven
Month
Wedded
Happy
Christmas
Morn
Born
King
Maid
Mother
Son
Wherein
Great
Kings
Maids
Eternal
Virgin
Months
Virgins

More quotes by John Milton

Image
Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine.
John Milton
Image
The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
John Milton
Image
A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.
John Milton
Image
Beauty is God's handwriting-a wayside sacrament.
John Milton
Image
Th'invention all admir'd, and each, how he to be th'inventor miss'd so easy it seem'd once found, which yet unfound most would have thought impossible.
John Milton
Image
Danger will wink on opportunity.
John Milton
Image
Th' ethereal mould Incapable of stain would soon expel Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope Is flat despair.
John Milton
Image
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.
John Milton
Image
Death to life is crown or shame.
John Milton
Image
For books are as meats and viands are some of good, some of evil sub-stance.
John Milton
Image
Where there is much desire to learn, there of necessity will be much arguing, much writing, for opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making.
John Milton
Image
For such kind of borrowing as this, if it be not bettered by the borrowers, among good authors is accounted Plagiarè.
John Milton
Image
Yet I argue not Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope but still bear up and steer Right onward.
John Milton
Image
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.
John Milton
Image
The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
John Milton
Image
The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear So charming left his voice, that he awhile Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.
John Milton
Image
Evil into the mind of god or man may come and go, so unapproved, and leave no spot or blame behind.
John Milton
Image
Solitude sometimes is best society.
John Milton
Image
The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
John Milton
Image
And yet on the other hand unless warinesse be us'd, as good almost kill a Man as kill a good Book who kills a Man kills a reasonable creature, Gods Image, but hee who destroyes a good Booke, kills reason it selfe, kills the Image of God, as it were in the eye.
John Milton