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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

More quotes by John Milton

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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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Fear of change perplexes monarchs.
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Impostor do not charge most innocent Nature, As if she would her children should be riotous With her abundance she, good cateress, Means her provision only to the good, That live according to her sober laws, And holy dictate of spare temperance.
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Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call earth.
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It were a journey like the path to heaven, To help you find them.
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What if Earth be but the shadow of Heaven and things therein - each other like, more than on Earth is thought?
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Let us seek Death, or he not found, supply With our own hands his office on ourselves Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That show no end but death, and have the power, Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, Destruction with destruction to destroy.
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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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Yet much remains To conquer still peace hath her victories No less renowned then war, new foes arise Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains: Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves whose gospel is their maw.
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So dear I love him, that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life.
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So little knows Any, but God alone, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to their meanest use.
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Thoughts that voluntary move Harmonious numbers.
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Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones.
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And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience to attain To something like prophetic strain.
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What boots it at one gate to make defence, And at another to let in the foe?
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On the tawny sands and shelves trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.
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Our state cannot be severed, we are one, One flesh to lose thee were to lose myself.
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On a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder.
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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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Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were, in the eye.
John Milton