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Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Whereon
Wreck
Wrecks
Rocks
Greatest
Men

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His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command. Ibid.
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So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair that ever since in love's embraces met -- Adam, the goodliest man of men since born his sons the fairest of her daughters Eve.
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But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began.
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Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled.
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Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain if her waters flow not in perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition.
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Come knit hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round
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The teachers of our law, and to propose What might improve my knowledge or their own.
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Indu'd With sanctity of reason.
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Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold that shall befall Him or his children.
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Wisdom's self oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, where with her best nurse Contemplation, she plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings that in the various bustle of resort were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.
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A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.
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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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There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.
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God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest They also serve who only stand and wait.
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Those whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
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Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democratie, Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.
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O madness to think use of strongest wines And strongest drinks our chief support of health, When God with these forbidden made choice to rear His mighty champion, strong above compare, Whose drink was only from the liquid brook.
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Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.
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Where shame is, there is also fear.
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