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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
Spirit
Enmity
Spirits
Assumption
Assume
Assuming
Sex
Please
Either
Apparitions

More quotes by John Milton

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Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.
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Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies.
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Books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them....I know they are as lively and as vigorously productive as those fabulous dragon's teeth and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men.
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Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.
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No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.
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Mutual love, the crown of all our bliss.
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How oft, in nations gone corrupt, And by their own devices brought down to servitude, That man chooses bondage before liberty. Bondage with ease before strenuous liberty.
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Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread.
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Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.
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Behold now this vast city [London] a city of refuge, the mansion-house of liberty, encompassed and surrounded with His protection.
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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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Hate is of all things the mightiest divider, nay, is division itself. To couple hatred, therefore, though wedlock try all her golden links, and borrow to tier aid all the iron manacles and fetters of law, it does but seek to twist a rope of sand.
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For the air of youth, Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life.
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Come knit hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round
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So on this windy sea of land, the Fiend Walked up and down alone bent on his prey.
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Dark with excessive bright.
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Midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.
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Back to thy punishment, False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings.
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The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear So charming left his voice, that he awhile Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.
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And that must end us, that must be our cure: To be no more. Sad cure! For who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish, rather, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night Devoid of sense and motion?
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