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The pious and just honoring of ourselves may be thought the fountainhead from whence every laudable and worthy enterprise issues forth.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Worthy
Issues
Laudable
Thought
Fountainhead
May
Honoring
Self
Whence
Every
Pious
Enterprise
Forth

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Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.
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A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses
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Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony.
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Suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.
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Me miserable! Which way shall I fly Infinite wrath and infinite despair? Which way I fly is hell myself am hell And in the lowest deep a lower deep, Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
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His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
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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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Among the writers of all ages, some deserve fame, and have it others neither have nor deserve it some have it, not deserving it others, though deserving it, yet totally miss it, or have it not equal to their deserts.
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Such joy ambition finds.
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Abash'd the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is.
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Thrones, dominions, princedoms, virtues, powers-- If these magnific titles yet remain Not merely titular.
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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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Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
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My latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever new delight!
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Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.
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Law can discover sin, but not remove, Save by those shadowy expiations weak.
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Aristotle ... imputed this symphony of the heavens ... this music of the spheres to Pythagorus. ... But Pythagoras alone of mortals is said to have heard this harmony ... If our hearts were as pure, as chaste, as snowy as Pythagoras' was, our ears would resound and be filled with that supremely lovely music of the wheeling stars.
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Anon out of the earth a fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation.
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Only add Deeds to thy knowledge answerable, add faith, Add virtue, patience, temperance, add love, By name to come call'd charity, the soul Of all the rest then wilt thou not be loath To leave this Paradise, but shall possess A Paradise within thee, happier far.
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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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