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So little knows Any, but God alone, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to their meanest use.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Alone
Use
Littles
Best
Little
Perverts
Things
Meanest
Abuse
Worst

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For neither man nor angel can discern hypocrisy, the only evil that walks invisible, except to God alone.
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Impostor do not charge most innocent Nature, As if she would her children should be riotous With her abundance she, good cateress, Means her provision only to the good, That live according to her sober laws, And holy dictate of spare temperance.
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Only add Deeds to thy knowledge answerable, add faith, Add virtue, patience, temperance, add love, By name to come call'd charity, the soul Of all the rest then wilt thou not be loath To leave this Paradise, but shall possess A Paradise within thee, happier far.
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Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be sin to know, Can it be death? And do they only stand By ignorance? Is that their happy state, The proof of their obedience and their faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Their ruin!
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So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.
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His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less than archangel ruin'd, and th' excess Of glory obscur'd.
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What is strength without a double share of wisdom?
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Fear of change perplexes monarchs.
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Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were, in the eye.
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The teachers of our law, and to propose What might improve my knowledge or their own.
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I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.
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The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.
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My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.
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The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks, Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.
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Then might ye see Cowls, hoods, and habits with their wearers tost And flutter'd into rags then reliques, beads, Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls, The sport of winds all these upwhirl'd aloft Fly to the rearward of the world far off Into a limbo large and broad, since called The paradise of fools.
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Evil, be thou my good.
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I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known rules of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.
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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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Suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.
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Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence.
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