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In argument with men a woman ever Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Cause
Goes
Causes
Whatever
Woman
Ever
Men
Argument
Worse

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Such joy ambition finds.
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Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation.
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Reason also is choice.
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None But such as are good men can give good things, And that which is not good, is not delicious To a well-govern'd and wise appetite.
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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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This is servitude, To serve th'unwise, or him who hath rebelled Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee, Thyself not free, but to thyself enthralled.
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Sport, that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come and trip it as ye go, On the light fantastic toe.
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To know that which lies before us in daily life is the prime wisdom.
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Thrones, dominions, princedoms, virtues, powers-- If these magnific titles yet remain Not merely titular.
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Imparadis'd in one another's arms.
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There are no songs comparable to the songs of Zion, no orations equal to those of the prophets, and no politics like those which the Scriptures teach.
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There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
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Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
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It were a journey like the path to heaven, To help you find them.
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God, who oft descends to visit men Unseen, and through their habitations walks To mark their doings.
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With a smile that glow'd Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue.
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Such sober certainty of waking bliss.
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When language in common use in any country becomes irregular and depraved, it is followed by their ruin and degradation. For what do terms used without skill or meaning, which are at once corrupt and misapplied, denote but a people listless, supine, and ripe for servitude?
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And that must end us, that must be our cure: To be no more. Sad cure! For who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish, rather, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night Devoid of sense and motion?
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A good principle not rightly understood may prove as hurtful as a bad.
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