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For Solomon, he lived at ease, and full Of honour, wealth, high fare, aimed not beyond Higher design than to enjoy his state.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Beyond
Fare
Higher
Solomon
Wealth
Aimed
Full
Honour
High
Enjoyment
State
Ease
Enjoy
Lived
States
Design

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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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Suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.
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Indu'd With sanctity of reason.
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These evils I deserve, and more . . . . Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon, Whose ear is ever open, and his eye Gracious to re-admit the suppliant.
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But pain is perfect misery, the worst Of evils, and excessive, overturns All patience.
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Fear of change perplexes monarchs.
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Come and trip it as ye go On the light fantastic toe.
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Sweet bird that shunn'st the nose of folly, Most musical, most melancholy! Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among, I woo, to hear thy even-song.
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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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To be blind is not miserable not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable.
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No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.
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By this time, like one who had set out on his way by night, and travelled through a region of smooth or idle dreams, our history now arrives on the confines, where daylight and truth meet us with a clear dawn, representing to our view, though at a far distance, true colours and shapes.
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How oft, in nations gone corrupt, And by their own devices brought down to servitude, That man chooses bondage before liberty. Bondage with ease before strenuous liberty.
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Where all life dies death lives.
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Sweetest Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell, By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale.
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Most men admire Virtue who follow not her lore.
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Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.
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