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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
War
Reason
Made
Equalled
Hath
Supreme
Peace
Force

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It were a journey like the path to heaven, To help you find them.
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The starry cope Of heaven.
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This horror will grow mild, this darkness light Besides what hope the never-ending flight Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting--since our present lot appears For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, If we procure not to ourselves more woe.
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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 great creator from his work returned Magnificent, his six days' work, a world.
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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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Indu'd With sanctity of reason.
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A good principle not rightly understood may prove as hurtful as a bad.
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Come knit hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round
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So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.
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But God himself is truth in propagating which, as men display a greater integrity and zeal, they approach nearer to the similitude of God, and possess a greater portion of his love.
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For to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.
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Death ready stands to interpose his dart.
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Nor love thy life, nor hate but what thou livest, Live well how long, or short, permit to Heaven.
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Where all life dies death lives.
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And fast by, hanging in a golden chain, This pendent world, in bigness as a star Of smallest magnitude, close by the moon.
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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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Courage never to submit of yield.
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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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But hail thou Goddess sage and holy, Hail, divinest Melancholy, Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue.
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