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Just are the ways of God, And justifiable to men Unless there be who think not God at all.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Thinking
Justifiable
Unless
Ways
Way
Men
Think

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Most men admire Virtue who follow not her lore.
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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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Death is the golden key that opens the palace of eternity.
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Thrones, dominions, princedoms, virtues, powers-- If these magnific titles yet remain Not merely titular.
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The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks, Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.
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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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Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
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Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
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Our cure, to be no more sad cure!
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Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth.
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Our country is where ever we are well off.
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Th'invention all admir'd, and each, how he to be th'inventor miss'd so easy it seem'd once found, which yet unfound most would have thought impossible.
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Midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.
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Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call earth.
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Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam.
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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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So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.
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Spirits that live throughout, Vital in every part, not as frail man, In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins, Cannot but by annihilating die.
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To overcome in battle, and subdue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite Man-slaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory.
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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.
John Milton