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Spirits when they please Can either sex assume, or both.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Either
Apparitions
Spirit
Enmity
Spirits
Assumption
Assume
Assuming
Sex
Please

More quotes by John Milton

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Yet hold it more humane, more heav'nly, first, By winning words to conquer willing hearts, And make persuasion do the work of fear.
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But that from us aught should ascend to Heav'n So prevalent as to concern the mind Of God, high-bless'd, or to incline His will, Hard to belief may seem yet this will prayer.
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Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.
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For Solomon, he lived at ease, and full Of honour, wealth, high fare, aimed not beyond Higher design than to enjoy his state.
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Freely we serve, Because we freely love, as in our will To love or not in this we stand or fall.
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At His birth a star, unseen before in heaven, proclaims Him come.
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And sing to those that hold the vital shears And turn the adamantine spindle round, On which the fate of gods and men is wound.
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Good luck befriend thee, Son for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
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And these gems of Heav'n, her starry train.
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Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded, But must be current, and the good thereof Consists in mutual and partaken bliss.
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Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be sin to know, Can it be death? And do they only stand By ignorance? Is that their happy state, The proof of their obedience and their faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Their ruin!
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O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp, Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death.
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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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His sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.
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Assuredly we bring not innocence not the world, we bring impurity much rather: that which purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary.
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Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
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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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Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.
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Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones Forget not.
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Nor think thou with wind Of æry threats to awe whom yet with deeds Thou canst not.
John Milton