Quote

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.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Sense
Apart
Sat
Wand
Found
Fate
Providence
Wands
Others
Sweet
Ring
Mazes
Ends
Thoughts
Charm
Elevate
Soul
High
Hills
Charms
Reason
Free
Rings
Eloquence
Song
Absolutes
Hill
Lost
Absolute
Discourse
Foreknowledge

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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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Fate shall yield To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife.
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Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.
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The earth, though in comparison of heaven so small, nor glistering, may of solid good contain more plenty than the sun, that barren shines.
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Among the writers of all ages, some deserve fame, and have it others neither have nor deserve it some have it, not deserving it others, though deserving it, yet totally miss it, or have it not equal to their deserts.
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Nor jealousy Was understood, the injur'd lover's hell.
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I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known rules of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.
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Midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.
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Nor think thou with wind Of æry threats to awe whom yet with deeds Thou canst not.
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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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But oh the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return!
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Hide me from day's garish eye.
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Socrates... Whom well inspir'd the oracle pronounc'd Wisest of men.
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United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprise.
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It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit, Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit, That woman's love can win, or long inherit But what it is, hard is to say, Harder to hit.
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Necessity and chance Approach not me, and what I will is fate.
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That space the Evil One abstracted stood From his own evil, and for the time remained Stupidly good, of enmity disarmed, Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge .
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But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloisters pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight Casting a dim religious light.
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Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.
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When language in common use in any country becomes irregular and depraved, it is followed by their ruin and degradation. For what do terms used without skill or meaning, which are at once corrupt and misapplied, denote but a people listless, supine, and ripe for servitude?
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