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For neither man nor angel can discern hypocrisy, the only evil that walks invisible, except to God alone.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Men
Hypocrisy
Invisible
Angel
Neither
Except
Walks
Hypocrit
Alone
Discern
Evil
Hypocrite

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A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.
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I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.
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With thee conversing I forget all time.
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The childhood shows the man As morning shows the day. Be famous then By wisdom as thy empire must extend, So let extend thy mind o'er all the world.
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Anon out of the earth a fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation.
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The redundant locks, robustious to no purpose, clustering down--vast monument of strength.
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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.
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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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Nor aught availed him now to have built in heaven high towers nor did he scrape by all his engines, but was headlong sent with his industrious crew to build in hell.
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Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.
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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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Temper justice with mercy.
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O Conscience, into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me, out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged.
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Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.
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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.
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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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How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence through the empty-vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven down Of darkness till it smiled!
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For to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.
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Seas wept from our deep sorrows.
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Arm the obdured breast with stubborn patience as with triple steel.
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