Quote

And fast by, hanging in a golden chain, This pendent world, in bigness as a star Of smallest magnitude, close by the moon.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
World
Smallest
Chains
Golden
Fast
Star
Bigness
Moon
Magnitude
Close
Chain
Stars
Hanging

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The Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill.
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Here we may reign secure and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in hell: Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
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A good principle not rightly understood may prove as hurtful as a bad.
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From morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,- A summer's day and with the setting sun Dropp'd from the Zenith like a falling star.
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Part of my soul I seek thee, and claim thee my other half
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Lords are lordliest in their wine.
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O why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest heav'n With Spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With men as angels without feminine, Or find some other way to generate Mankind?
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Yet hold it more humane, more heav'nly, first, By winning words to conquer willing hearts, And make persuasion do the work of fear.
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Few sometimes may know, when thousands err.
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Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.
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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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There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.
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Let not England forget her precedence of teaching nations how to live.
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Nor aught availed him now to have built in heaven high towers nor did he scrape by all his engines, but was headlong sent with his industrious crew to build in hell.
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Let us seek Death, or he not found, supply With our own hands his office on ourselves Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That show no end but death, and have the power, Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, Destruction with destruction to destroy.
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Heaven, the seat of bliss, Brooks not the works of violence and war.
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The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.
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