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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

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Architecture
Scrape
Build
Headlong
Built
Aught
Hell
Industrious
High
Towers
Heaven
Engines
Crew
Sent
Availed

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So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And in clear dream and solemn vision Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape.
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For so I created them free and free they must remain.
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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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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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Be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee and thy being.
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For truth is strong next to the Almighty. She needs no policies or stratagems or licensings to make her victorious. These are the shifts and the defences that error uses against her power.
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Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine.
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Heaven, the seat of bliss, Brooks not the works of violence and war.
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Socrates... Whom well inspir'd the oracle pronounc'd Wisest of men.
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Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise. That last infirmity of noble mind. To scorn delights, and live laborious days.
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O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white handed Hope, Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings.
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O Conscience, into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me, out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged.
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There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.
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Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam.
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Courage never to submit of yield.
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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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Zeal and duty are not slow But on occasion's forelock watchful wait.
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Reason is also choice.
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Don't hold grudges it's pointless. Jealousy too is a non-cathartic, negative emotion. .
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O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.
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