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Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Liquid
Notes
Close
Eye

More quotes by John Milton

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Love Virtue, she alone is free, She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.
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Fairy damsels met in forest wide / By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, / Lancelot or Pelleas, or Pellenore.
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Who aspires must down as low As high he soar'd.
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Ornate rhetorick taught out of the rule of Plato.... To which poetry would be made subsequent, or indeed rather precedent, as being less suttle and fine, but more simple, sensuous, and passionate.
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Dark with excessive bright.
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From haunted spring and dale Edg'd with poplar pale The parting genius is with sighing sent.
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Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.
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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.
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Ink is the blood of the printing-press.
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There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
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The never-ending flight Of future days.
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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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Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
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O why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest heav'n With Spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With men as angels without feminine, Or find some other way to generate Mankind?
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Me miserable! Which way shall I fly Infinite wrath and infinite despair? Which way I fly is hell myself am hell And in the lowest deep a lower deep, Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
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The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
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Be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee and thy being.
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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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O fairest of creation, last and best Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled Whatever can to sight or thought be formed, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost, Defaced, deflow'red, and now to death devote? Paradise Lost
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And what is faith, love, virtue unassayed Alone, without exterior help sustained?
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