Quote

Myself, and all the Angelic Host, that stand in the sight of God enthroned, our happy state hold, as you yours, while our obedience hold. On other surety none: freely we serve, because we freely love.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
None
Enthroned
Sight
Surety
Hold
Angelic
Stand
Freely
State
Host
Happy
Obedience
States
Serve
Love
Angel

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Seasoned life of man preserved and stored up in books.
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Only add Deeds to thy knowledge answerable, add faith, Add virtue, patience, temperance, add love, By name to come call'd charity, the soul Of all the rest then wilt thou not be loath To leave this Paradise, but shall possess A Paradise within thee, happier far.
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Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss
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At His birth a star, unseen before in heaven, proclaims Him come.
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Reason is also choice.
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It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit, Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit, That woman's love can win, or long inherit But what it is, hard is to say, Harder to hit.
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If this fail, The pillar'd firmament is rottenness, And earth's base built on stubble.
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For the air of youth, Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life.
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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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And now without redemption all mankind Must have been lost, adjudged to death and hell By doom severe.
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Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.
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His sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.
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All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.
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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.
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My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.
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Fairy damsels met in forest wide / By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, / Lancelot or Pelleas, or Pellenore.
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Danger will wink on opportunity.
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Now came still evening on and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied for beast and bird, They to they grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
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Now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd,-wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse.
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True it is that covetousness is rich, modesty starves.
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