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A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
World
Frown
Continent
Boundless
Continents
Wild
Waste
Dark
Expos
Night
Starless
More quotes by John Milton
Rhime being no necessary Adjunct or true Ornament of Poem or good Verse, in longer Works especially, but the Invention of a barbarous Age, to set off wretched matter and lame Meeter...the troublesom and modern bondage of Rimeing.
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Nor jealousy Was understood, the injur'd lover's hell.
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Ink is the blood of the printing-press.
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Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view.
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If weakness may excuse, What murderer, what traitor, parricide, Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it? All wickedness is weakness that plea, therefore, With God or man will gain thee no remission.
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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?
John Milton
Luck is the residue of design.
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His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command. Ibid.
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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?
John Milton
A good book is the precious lifeblood of a master spirit.
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Boast not of what thou would'st have done, but do.
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The earth, though in comparison of heaven so small, nor glistering, may of solid good contain more plenty than the sun, that barren shines.
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So little knows Any, but God alone, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to their meanest use.
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Heaven, the seat of bliss, Brooks not the works of violence and war.
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No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.
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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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Few sometimes may know, when thousands err.
John Milton
If this fail, The pillar'd firmament is rottenness, And earth's base built on stubble.
John Milton
A shout that tore hell's concave, and beyond / Frightened the reign of Chaos and old Night.
John Milton
How often from the steep Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to other's note, Singing their great Creator?
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