Quote

Let us no more contend, nor blame each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten each other's burden.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
May
Blamed
Enough
Offices
Love
Elsewhere
Burden
Strive
Blame
Office
Lighten
Marriage
Contend

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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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Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades High over-arch'd imbower.
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So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,Farewell remorse: all good to me is lostEvil,be thou my good.
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Earth felt the wound and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.
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We shall sooner have the fowl by hatching the egg than by smashing it. Abraham Lincoln, White House speech 11 April 1865. Or arm th' obdured breast With stubborn patience as with triple steel.
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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.
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Mutual love, the crown of all our bliss.
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Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
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God, who oft descends to visit men Unseen, and through their habitations walks To mark their doings.
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His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command. Ibid.
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This horror will grow mild, this darkness light Besides what hope the never-ending flight Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting--since our present lot appears For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, If we procure not to ourselves more woe.
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A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace, flamed yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all but torture without end.
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So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
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And to thy husband's will Thine shall submit he over thee shall rule.
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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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Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.
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With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded.
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Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth.
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What boots it at one gate to make defence, And at another to let in the foe?
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This manner of writing wherein knowing myself inferior to myself? I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.
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