Quote

So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Mother
Snake
Prohibition
Woe
Snakes
Fraud
Root
Roots
Credulous
Tree
Dire

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Me miserable! Which way shall I fly Infinite wrath and infinite despair? Which way I fly is hell myself am hell And in the lowest deep a lower deep, Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
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The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
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With eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd. Imparadised in one another's arms. With thee conversing I forget all time. And feel that I am happier than I know.
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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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The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.
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Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call earth.
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The helmed Cherubim, And sworded Seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd.
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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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Suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.
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Indu'd With sanctity of reason.
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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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Servant of God, well done! well hast thou fought The better fight, who single hast maintain'd Against revolted multitudes the cause of truth.
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Reason also is choice.
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Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end.
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Anarchy is the sure consequence of tyranny for no power that is not limited by laws can ever be protected by them.
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