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Now came still evening on and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied for beast and bird, They to they grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Bird
Couch
Livery
Silence
Couches
Sapphires
Came
Nests
Grassy
Stills
Sober
Wakeful
Still
Twilight
Clad
Things
Gray
Nightingale
Beast
Nightingales
Evening
Accompanied

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And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience to attain To something like prophetic strain.
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Each tree Laden with fairest fruit, that hung to th' eye Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite To pluck and eat.
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On a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder.
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Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call earth.
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There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
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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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With a smile that glow'd Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue.
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But now my task is smoothly done, I can fly, or I can run Quickly to the green earth's end, Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend, And from thence can soar as soon To the corners of the Moon.
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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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Our reason is our law.
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Tis chastity, my brother, chastity She that has that is clad in complete steel, And, like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen, May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths, Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer, Will dare to soil her virgin purity.
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Yet I argue not Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope but still bear up and steer Right onward.
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His sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.
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Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.
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Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled.
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Farewell Hope, and with Hope farewell Fear
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We shall sooner have the fowl by hatching the egg than by smashing it. Abraham Lincoln, White House speech 11 April 1865. Or arm th' obdured breast With stubborn patience as with triple steel.
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What is strength without a double share of wisdom?
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Oft, on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-watered shore, Swinging low with sullen roar.
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Seasoned life of man preserved and stored up in books.
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