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Fame is the last infirmity of the human mind.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Infirmity
Recognition
Fame
Lasts
Last
Human
Humans
Mind

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These evils I deserve, and more . . . . Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon, Whose ear is ever open, and his eye Gracious to re-admit the suppliant.
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The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.
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Good luck befriend thee, Son for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
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But God himself is truth in propagating which, as men display a greater integrity and zeal, they approach nearer to the similitude of God, and possess a greater portion of his love.
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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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How gladly would I meet mortality, my sentence, and be earth in sensible! How glad would lay me down, as in my mother's lap! There I should rest, and sleep secure.
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This is the month, and this the happy morn, wherein the Son of heaven's eternal King, of wedded Maid and Virgin Mother born, our great redemption from above did bring.
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Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd.
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The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
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And to the faithful: death, the gate of life.
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Hail, wedded love, mysterious law true source of human happiness.
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Let none admire that riches grow in hell that soil may best deserve the precious bane.
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Therefore God's universal law Gave to the man despotic power Over his female in due awe, Not from that right to part an hour, Smile she or lour.
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Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.
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With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded.
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My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth.
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Nor love thy life, nor hate but what thou livest, Live well how long, or short, permit to Heaven.
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And now without redemption all mankind Must have been lost, adjudged to death and hell By doom severe.
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Where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mast'ry.
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O visions ill foreseen! Better had I Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne My part of evil only.
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