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Fate shall yield To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Judging
Fate
Shall
Chance
Fickle
Strife
Yield
Judge
Chaos

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What reinforcement we may gain from hope If not, what resolution from despair.
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The Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill.
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Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper.
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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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With thee conversing I forget all time.
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My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth.
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Let us seek Death, or he not found, supply With our own hands his office on ourselves Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That show no end but death, and have the power, Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, Destruction with destruction to destroy.
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Heaven Is as the Book of God before thee set, Wherein to read His wondrous works.
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The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
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To know that which lies before us in daily life is the prime wisdom.
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