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Most men admire Virtue who follow not her lore.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Lore
Admire
Follow
Virtue
Men

More quotes by John Milton

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God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest They also serve who only stand and wait.
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Those whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
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Solitude sometimes is best society.
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His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast Of some great ammiral were but a wand, He walk'd with to support uneasy steps Over the burning marle.
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The never-ending flight Of future days.
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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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Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones.
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That space the Evil One abstracted stood From his own evil, and for the time remained Stupidly good, of enmity disarmed, Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge .
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So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap.
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To many a youth and many a maid, dancing in the chequer'd shade.
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Believe and be confirmed.
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Indu'd With sanctity of reason.
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To know that which lies before us in daily life is the prime wisdom.
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Love Virtue, she alone is free, She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.
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Dark with excessive bright.
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So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,Farewell remorse: all good to me is lostEvil,be thou my good.
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And these gems of Heav'n, her starry train.
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And some are fall'n, to disobedience fall'n, And so from Heav'n to deepest Hell O fall From what high state of bliss into what woe!
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. . . for beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds Led captive. Cease to admire, and all her plumes Fall flat and shrink into a trivial toy, At every sudden slighting quite abash'd.
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Evil, be thou my good.
John Milton