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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.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Earth
Solid
May
Comparison
Good
Plenty
Shining
Sun
Small
Barren
Though
Shines
Heaven
Contain

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The starry cope Of heaven.
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How oft, in nations gone corrupt, And by their own devices brought down to servitude, That man chooses bondage before liberty. Bondage with ease before strenuous liberty.
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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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Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam.
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Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.
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His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
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Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.
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Dim eclipse, disastrous twilight.
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Hate is of all things the mightiest divider, nay, is division itself. To couple hatred, therefore, though wedlock try all her golden links, and borrow to tier aid all the iron manacles and fetters of law, it does but seek to twist a rope of sand.
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What honour that, But tedious waste of time, to sit and hear So many hollow compliments and lies.
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Love Virtue, she alone is free, She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.
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Luck is the residue of design.
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All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.
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Blind mouths! That scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook.
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Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.
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Mutual love, the crown of all our bliss.
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Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled.
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So dear I love him, that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life.
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The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear So charming left his voice, that he awhile Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.
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