Quote

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.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Air
Regions
Mansion
Call
Immortal
Mansions
Spirit
Spots
Mild
Earth
Bright
Stir
Live
Flight
Serene
Men
Smoke
Aviation
Calm
Spirits
Shapes
Spot
Aerial

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No war or battle sound Was heard the world around.
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Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.
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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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Angels contented with their face in heaven, Seek not the praise of men.
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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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Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.
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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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Zeal and duty are not slow But on occasion's forelock watchful wait.
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Virtue hath no tongue to check vice's pride.
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Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven firstborn! Or of th' eternal co-eternal beam, May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light And never but in unapproached light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate!
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Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
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O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.
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Tis chastity, my brother, chastity She that has that is clad in complete steel, And, like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen, May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths, Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer, Will dare to soil her virgin purity.
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On the tawny sands and shelves trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.
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With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded.
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The conquer'd, also, and enslaved by war, Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose.
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Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam.
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Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam.
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Solitude sometimes is best society.
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Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.
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