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Few sometimes may know, when thousands err.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Thousands
May
Sometimes

More quotes by John Milton

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Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties.
John Milton
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His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
John Milton
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Be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee and thy being.
John Milton
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God sure esteems the growth and completing of one virtuous person, more that the restraint of ten vicious.
John Milton
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Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end.
John Milton
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Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd.
John Milton
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Where no hope is left, is left no fear.
John Milton
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O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp, Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death.
John Milton
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Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
John Milton
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So little knows Any, but God alone, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to their meanest use.
John Milton
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And grace that won who saw to wish her stay.
John Milton
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Come to the sunset tree! The day is past and gone The woodman's axe lies free, And the reaper's work is done.
John Milton
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Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces.
John Milton
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Heav'nly love shall outdoo Hellish hate
John Milton
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Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
John Milton
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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.
John Milton
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Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.
John Milton
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Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.
John Milton
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Imparadis'd in one another's arms.
John Milton
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From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, But rush upon me thronging.
John Milton