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O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white handed Hope, Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Golden
Thou
Wings
Girt
Angel
Hovering
Pure
Angelic
Faith
Eyed
Hope
Handed
White
Welcome

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But now my task is smoothly done, I can fly, or I can run Quickly to the green earth's end, Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend, And from thence can soar as soon To the corners of the Moon.
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For Solomon, he lived at ease, and full Of honour, wealth, high fare, aimed not beyond Higher design than to enjoy his state.
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Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be sin to know, Can it be death? And do they only stand By ignorance? Is that their happy state, The proof of their obedience and their faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Their ruin!
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So he with difficulty and labour hard Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour he.
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What reinforcement we may gain from hope If not, what resolution from despair.
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O visions ill foreseen! Better had I Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne My part of evil only.
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God sure esteems the growth and completing of one virtuous person, more that the restraint of ten vicious.
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The pious and just honoring of ourselves may be thought the fountainhead from whence every laudable and worthy enterprise issues forth.
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His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast Of some great ammiral were but a wand, He walk'd with to support uneasy steps Over the burning marle.
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Temper justice with mercy.
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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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Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
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Among the writers of all ages, some deserve fame, and have it others neither have nor deserve it some have it, not deserving it others, though deserving it, yet totally miss it, or have it not equal to their deserts.
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Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium.
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It is not good that man should be alone. ... Hitherto all things that have been named, were approved of God to be very good: loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named not good: whether it be a thing, or the want of something, I labour not.
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Farewell Hope, and with Hope farewell Fear
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Spirits that live throughout, Vital in every part, not as frail man, In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins, Cannot but by annihilating die.
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Hell has no benefits, only torture.
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Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.
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In argument with men a woman ever Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause.
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