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John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Thoughts
Move
Numbers
Moving
Voluntary
Harmonious

More quotes by John Milton

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Just are the ways of God, And justifiable to men Unless there be who think not God at all.
John Milton
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This is the month, and this the happy morn, wherein the Son of heaven's eternal King, of wedded Maid and Virgin Mother born, our great redemption from above did bring.
John Milton
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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.
John Milton
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The virtuous mind that ever walks attended By a strong siding champion, Conscience.
John Milton
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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.
John Milton
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Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.
John Milton
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Good luck befriend thee, Son for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
John Milton
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Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam.
John Milton
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Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call earth.
John Milton
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Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium.
John Milton
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Ink is the blood of the printing-press.
John Milton
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In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.
John Milton
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Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.
John Milton
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Our cure, to be no more sad cure!
John Milton
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Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.
John Milton
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And if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of Him who all things can, I would not cease To weary Him with my assiduous cries.
John Milton
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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?
John Milton
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Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end.
John Milton
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If we think we regulate printing, thereby to rectify manners, we must regulate all regulations and pastimes, all that is delightful to man.
John Milton
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Such sober certainty of waking bliss.
John Milton