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I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known rules of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Noise
Barbarous
Straight
Owl
Ancient
Prompts
Environs
Dog
Apes
Clogs
Rules
Ass
Owls
Liberty
Quit
Cuckoos
Age
Quitting
Asses
Known
Dogs
Prompt

More quotes by John Milton

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And yet on the other hand unless warinesse be us'd, as good almost kill a Man as kill a good Book who kills a Man kills a reasonable creature, Gods Image, but hee who destroyes a good Booke, kills reason it selfe, kills the Image of God, as it were in the eye.
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No mighty trance, or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
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Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.
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A limbo large and broad, since call'd The Paradise of Fools to few unknown.
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Our reason is our law.
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Earth felt the wound and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.
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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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United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprise.
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But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloisters pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight Casting a dim religious light.
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Hell has no benefits, only torture.
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The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear So charming left his voice, that he awhile Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.
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Angels contented with their face in heaven, Seek not the praise of men.
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Aristotle ... imputed this symphony of the heavens ... this music of the spheres to Pythagorus. ... But Pythagoras alone of mortals is said to have heard this harmony ... If our hearts were as pure, as chaste, as snowy as Pythagoras' was, our ears would resound and be filled with that supremely lovely music of the wheeling stars.
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How often from the steep Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to other's note, Singing their great Creator?
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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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None But such as are good men can give good things, And that which is not good, is not delicious To a well-govern'd and wise appetite.
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First Moloch, horrid king, besmirched in blood, Of Human sacrifice, and parent's tears, Though, for the noise of drums and timbrels loud, Their childrens' cries unheard, that passed through fire, To his grim idol.
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Where shame is, there is also fear.
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Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
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The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.
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