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If weakness may excuse, What murderer, what traitor, parricide, Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it? All wickedness is weakness that plea, therefore, With God or man will gain thee no remission.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
May
Wickedness
Men
Murderer
Gain
Incestuous
Excuse
Sacrilegious
Gains
Remission
Thee
Plea
Weakness
Plead
Therefore
Traitor

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So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And in clear dream and solemn vision Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape.
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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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And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.
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Death ready stands to interpose his dart.
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There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.
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And sing to those that hold the vital shears And turn the adamantine spindle round, On which the fate of gods and men is wound.
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If there be any difference among professed believers as to the sense of Scripture, it is their duty to tolerate such difference in each other, until God shall have revealed the truth to all.
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The teachers of our law, and to propose What might improve my knowledge or their own.
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Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam.
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O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white handed Hope, Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings.
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Now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd,-wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse.
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Seas wept from our deep sorrows.
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For truth is strong next to the Almighty. She needs no policies or stratagems or licensings to make her victorious. These are the shifts and the defences that error uses against her power.
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Fate shall yield To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife.
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I on the other side Us'd no ambition to commend my deeds The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the doer.
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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.
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The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
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Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.
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He that has light within his own clear breast May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day: But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the mid-day sun Himself his own dungeon.
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Joking decides great things, Stronger and better oft than earnest can.
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