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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
Worst
Alone
Use
Littles
Best
Little
Perverts
Things
Meanest
Abuse

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Temper justice with mercy.
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Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me?
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Th'invention all admir'd, and each, how he to be th'inventor miss'd so easy it seem'd once found, which yet unfound most would have thought impossible.
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O why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest heav'n With Spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With men as angels without feminine, Or find some other way to generate Mankind?
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So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
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The redundant locks, robustious to no purpose, clustering down--vast monument of strength.
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Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold that shall befall Him or his children.
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Don't hold grudges it's pointless. Jealousy too is a non-cathartic, negative emotion. .
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Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
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The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another country, as he said, Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon.
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Fame is the last infirmity of the human mind.
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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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Heaven, the seat of bliss, Brooks not the works of violence and war.
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If all the world Should in a pet of temp'rance, feed on pulse, Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze, Th' All-giver would be unthank'd, would be unprais'd.
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His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command. Ibid.
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There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
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A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses
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Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.
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What is strength without a double share of wisdom?
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The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
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