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Those whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Hath
Supreme
Peace
Force
War
Reason
Made
Equalled

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It were a journey like the path to heaven, To help you find them.
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His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command. Ibid.
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Ah gentle pair, ye little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy.
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Where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes, That comes to all.
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I call a complete and generous education that which fits a man to perform justly, skillfully, and magnanimously all the offices, both private and public, of peace and war.
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... then there was war in heaven. But it was not angels. It was that small golden zeppelin, like a long oval world, high up. It seemed as if the cosmic order were gone, as if there had come a new order, a new heavens above us: and as if the world in anger were trying to revoke it.
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Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven firstborn! Or of th' eternal co-eternal beam, May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate!
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Lords are lordliest in their wine.
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For to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.
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It is for homely features to keep home,- They had their name thence coarse complexions And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply The sampler and to tease the huswife's wool. What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that, Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?
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Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.
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It is Chastity, my brother. She that has that is clad in complete steel.
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Midnight shout and revelry, Tipsy dance and jollity.
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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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The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
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Death to life is crown or shame.
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If this fail, The pillar'd firmament is rottenness, And earth's base built on stubble.
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Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain if her waters flow not in perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition.
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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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So dear I love him, that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life.
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