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Where shame is, there is also fear.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Fear
Also
Shame

More quotes by John Milton

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The conquer'd, also, and enslaved by war, Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose.
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O Conscience, into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me, out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged.
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Dark with excessive bright.
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What better can we do than prostrate fall before Him reverent, and there confess humbly our faults, and pardon beg with tears watering the ground?
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Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd.
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But now my task is smoothly done, I can fly, or I can run Quickly to the green earth's end, Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend, And from thence can soar as soon To the corners of the Moon.
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The childhood shows the man As morning shows the day. Be famous then By wisdom as thy empire must extend, So let extend thy mind o'er all the world.
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But that from us aught should ascend to Heav'n So prevalent as to concern the mind Of God, high-bless'd, or to incline His will, Hard to belief may seem yet this will prayer.
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Among the writers of all ages, some deserve fame, and have it others neither have nor deserve it some have it, not deserving it others, though deserving it, yet totally miss it, or have it not equal to their deserts.
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Nothing lovelier can be found In woman, than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote.
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Just are the ways of God, And justifiable to men Unless there be who think not God at all.
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No war or battle sound Was heard the world around.
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So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap.
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Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
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Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.
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How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence through the empty-vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven down Of darkness till it smiled!
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Evil into the mind of god or man may come and go, so unapproved, and leave no spot or blame behind.
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His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less than archangel ruin'd, and th' excess Of glory obscur'd.
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Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.
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Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed.
John Milton