Quote

Each tree Laden with fairest fruit, that hung to th' eye Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite To pluck and eat.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Hung
Appetite
Sudden
Fruit
Tree
Fairest
Eye
Pluck
Tempting
Laden

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Good luck befriend thee, Son for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
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Evil into the mind of god or man may come and go, so unapproved, and leave no spot or blame behind.
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Courage never to submit of yield.
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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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Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold that shall befall Him or his children.
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When we speak of knowing God, it must be understood with reference to man's limited powers of comprehension. God, as He really is, is far beyond man's imagination, let alone understanding. God has revealed only so much of Himself as our minds can conceive and the weakness of our nature can bear.
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Books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them....I know they are as lively and as vigorously productive as those fabulous dragon's teeth and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men.
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It is for homely features to keep home,- They had their name thence coarse complexions And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply The sampler and to tease the huswife's wool. What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that, Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?
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Our state cannot be severed, we are one, One flesh to lose thee were to lose myself.
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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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But that from us aught should ascend to Heav'n So prevalent as to concern the mind Of God, high-bless'd, or to incline His will, Hard to belief may seem yet this will prayer.
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Where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mast'ry.
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Oh, shame to men! devil with devil damn'd Firm concord holds, men only disagree Of creatures rational.
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How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence through the empty-vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven down Of darkness till it smiled!
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Let us no more contend, nor blame each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten each other's burden.
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Th' ethereal mould Incapable of stain would soon expel Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope Is flat despair.
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Death to life is crown or shame.
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And, when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
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