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Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Books
Book
Shallow
Deep

More quotes by John Milton

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A limbo large and broad, since call'd The Paradise of Fools to few unknown.
John Milton
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Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
John Milton
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So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And in clear dream and solemn vision Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape.
John Milton
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Anarchy is the sure consequence of tyranny for no power that is not limited by laws can ever be protected by them.
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Our reason is our law.
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Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
John Milton
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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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Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.
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The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
John Milton
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But O yet more miserable! Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave.
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Live while ye may, Yet happy pair.
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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.
John Milton
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The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to owe Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd what burden then?
John Milton
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Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces.
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Dim eclipse, disastrous twilight.
John Milton
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These eyes, tho' clear To outward view of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot, Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, not bate a jot Of heart or hope but still bear up and steer Right onward.
John Milton
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So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease Gathered, not harshly plucked, for death mature: This is old age but then thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change To withered weak and grey.
John Milton
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Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls his watery labyrinth, which whoso drinks forgets both joy and grief.
John Milton
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There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.
John Milton
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Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.
John Milton