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My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Shapes
Wise
Perfect
Heart
Good
Contains
Shape
Goodness

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Who can in reason then or right assume monarchy over such as live by right his equals, if in power or splendor less, in freedom equal?
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Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain if her waters flow not in perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition.
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So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And in clear dream and solemn vision Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape.
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Where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes, That comes to all.
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This manner of writing wherein knowing myself inferior to myself? I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.
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From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, But rush upon me thronging.
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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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Come to the sunset tree! The day is past and gone The woodman's axe lies free, And the reaper's work is done.
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Nothing lovelier can be found In woman, than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote.
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Yet I argue not Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope but still bear up and steer Right onward.
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This is the month, and this the happy morn, wherein the Son of heaven's eternal King, of wedded Maid and Virgin Mother born, our great redemption from above did bring.
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Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than War.
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O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.
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So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
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The virtuous mind that ever walks attended By a strong siding champion, Conscience.
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Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democratie, Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.
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The love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well.
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It is not good that man should be alone. ... Hitherto all things that have been named, were approved of God to be very good: loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named not good: whether it be a thing, or the want of something, I labour not.
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If at great things thou would'st arrive, Get riches first, get wealth, and treasure heap, Not difficult, if thou hearken to me Riches are mine, fortune is in my hand, They whom I favor thrive in wealth amain, While virtue, valor, wisdom, sit in want.
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The Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill.
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