Quote

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise. That last infirmity of noble mind. To scorn delights, and live laborious days.

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
Live
Delight
Infirmity
Mind
Noble
Spurs
Fame
Delights
Days
Doth
Clear
Scorn
Lasts
Raise
Shears
Last
Reputation
Laborious
Spirit
Raises
Spur

More quotes by John Milton

Image
The earth, though in comparison of heaven so small, nor glistering, may of solid good contain more plenty than the sun, that barren shines.
John Milton
Image
Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north - wind's breath, And stars to set but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
John Milton
Image
Eloquence the soul, song charms the senses.
John Milton
Image
His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command. Ibid.
John Milton
Image
Dark with excessive bright.
John Milton
Image
Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation.
John Milton
Image
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.
John Milton
Image
This manner of writing wherein knowing myself inferior to myself? I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.
John Milton
Image
Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.
John Milton
Image
Farewell Hope, and with Hope farewell Fear
John Milton
Image
So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
John Milton
Image
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace, flamed yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all but torture without end.
John Milton
Image
He who tempts, though in vain, at last asperses The tempted with dishonor foul, supposed Not incorruptible of faith, not proof Against temptation.
John Milton
Image
Socrates... Whom well inspir'd the oracle pronounc'd Wisest of men.
John Milton
Image
How often from the steep Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to other's note, Singing their great Creator?
John Milton
Image
There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
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
Come knit hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round
John Milton
Image
It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark.
John Milton
Image
Which way I fly is Hell myself am Hell.
John Milton