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They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet Quaff immortality and joy.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Quaff
Communion
Immortality
Sweet
Drink
Joy

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This manner of writing wherein knowing myself inferior to myself? I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.
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Yet some there be that by due steps aspire To lay their just hands on that golden key That opes the palace of Eternity.
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Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind.
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O fairest of creation, last and best Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled Whatever can to sight or thought be formed, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost, Defaced, deflow'red, and now to death devote? Paradise Lost
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Necessity and chance Approach not me, and what I will is fate.
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And as an ev'ning dragon came, Assailant on the perched roosts And nests in order rang'd Of tame villatic fowl.
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The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
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Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
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A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, And pavement stars,--as stars to thee appear Seen in the galaxy, that milky way Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars.
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Thrones, dominions, princedoms, virtues, powers-- If these magnific titles yet remain Not merely titular.
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Yet I argue not Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope but still bear up and steer Right onward.
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Though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously by licensing and prohibiting to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter.
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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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With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded.
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The superior man acquaints himself with many sayings of antiquity and many deeds of the past, in order to strengthen his character thereby.
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O visions ill foreseen! Better had I Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne My part of evil only.
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Thoughts that voluntary move Harmonious numbers.
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But oh the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return!
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What is dark within me, illumine.
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What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Of Attic taste?
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