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Good luck befriend thee, Son for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Birth
Befriend
Upon
Hearth
Heart
Danced
Good
Ladies
Fairy
Thee
Son
Luck
More quotes by John Milton
Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces.
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How oft, in nations gone corrupt, And by their own devices brought down to servitude, That man chooses bondage before liberty. Bondage with ease before strenuous liberty.
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I on the other side Us'd no ambition to commend my deeds The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the doer.
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This horror will grow mild, this darkness light Besides what hope the never-ending flight Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting--since our present lot appears For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, If we procure not to ourselves more woe.
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Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.
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The strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.
John Milton
The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith makes up the highest perfection.
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Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than War.
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Biochemically, love is just like eating large amounts of chocolate.
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It were a journey like the path to heaven, To help you find them.
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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.
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Evil, be thou my good.
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Yet much remains To conquer still peace hath her victories No less renowned then war, new foes arise Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains: Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves whose gospel is their maw.
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The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to owe Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd what burden then?
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If we think we regulate printing, thereby to rectify manners, we must regulate all regulations and pastimes, all that is delightful to man.
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Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.
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To live a life half dead, a living death.
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Dim eclipse, disastrous twilight.
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Moping melancholy And moon-struck madness.
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And, when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
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