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Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Lying
Music
Doth
Compulsion
Sweet

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And now the herald lark Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry The morn's approach, and greet her with his song.
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Wisdom's self oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, where with her best nurse Contemplation, she plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings that in the various bustle of resort were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.
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They who have put out the people's eyes reproach them of their blindness.
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Our reason is our law.
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Confidence imparts a wonderful inspiration to the possessor.
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Calm of mind, all passion spent.
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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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O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.
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And the earth self-balanced on her centre hung.
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What is dark within me, illumine.
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Virtue hath no tongue to check vice's pride.
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And some are fall'n, to disobedience fall'n, And so from Heav'n to deepest Hell O fall From what high state of bliss into what woe!
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What reinforcement we may gain from hope If not, what resolution from despair.
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To be blind is not miserable not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable.
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So dear I love him, that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life.
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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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Luck is the residue of design.
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The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another country, as he said, Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon.
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And if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of Him who all things can, I would not cease To weary Him with my assiduous cries.
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Prudence is the virtue by which we discern what is proper to do under various circumstances in time and place.
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