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Here we may reign secure and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in hell: Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Choices
Mad
Though
Secure
Heaven
Serve
May
Ambition
Better
Choice
Worth
Crazy
Hell
Reign

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Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves.
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Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end.
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Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind.
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To many a youth and many a maid, dancing in the chequer'd shade.
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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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The virtuous mind that ever walks attended By a strong siding champion, Conscience.
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When we speak of knowing God, it must be understood with reference to man's limited powers of comprehension. God, as He really is, is far beyond man's imagination, let alone understanding. God has revealed only so much of Himself as our minds can conceive and the weakness of our nature can bear.
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Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names.
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So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.
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God shall be all in all.
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Necessity and chance Approach not me, and what I will is fate.
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No mighty trance, or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
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The great creator from his work returned Magnificent, his six days' work, a world.
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And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience to attain To something like prophetic strain.
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Seas wept from our deep sorrows.
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Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces.
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Imparadis'd in one another's arms.
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Mutual love, the crown of all our bliss.
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In discourse more sweet For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense. Others apart sat on a hill retir'd, In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fix'd fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost.
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My latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever new delight!
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