Quotes from John Milton

Out of such prison, though Spirits of purest light,   Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown.

Solitude sometimes is the best society.

So dear to heaven 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 heavenly habitants Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, The unpolluted temple of the mind, And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, Till all be made immortal

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure; and, in my choice, To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell: Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.

Arm'd with Hell flames and fury all at once

All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield: And what else is not to be overcome? That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me.

Qué importa el sitio donde yo resida, si soy siempre el mismo y el que debo ser [...] vale más reinar en el infierno que servir en el cielo.

The mind is its own place, and in it self Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.

Thither he bent his way, determined there to rest at noon; and entered soon the shade high roofed, and walks beneath, and alleys brown, That opened in the midst a woody scene; Nature's own work it seemed, Nature-taught Art

Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell

First there was Chaos, the vast immeasurable abyss Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild.

Or if they list to try Conjecture, he his fabric of the Heavens Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move His laughter at their quaint opinions wide. John Milton, Paradise Lost viii 75-78

Father, I do acknowledge and confess That I this honor, I this pomp have brought To Dagon, and advanc'd his praises high among the Heathen round; to God have brought Dishonor, obloquy, and op'd the mouths Of Idolists, and Atheists […]The anguish of my Soul, that suffers not Mine eye to harbor sleep, or thoughts to rest. This only hope relieves me, that the strife With mee hath end.

Come let us haste, the stars grow high, But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky.

boondoggles

In loving thou dost well, in passion not, Wherein true love consists not; love refines The thoughts, and heart enlarges, hath his seat In reason, and is judicious, is the scale By which to heavenly love thou mayest ascend, Not sunk in carnal pleasure, for which cause Among the beasts no mate for thee was found.

They are the troublers, they are the dividers of unity, who neglect and don't permit others to unite those dissevered pieces which are yet wanting to the body of Truth.

Every cloud has a silver lining

And all amid them stood the Tree of Life,   High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit   Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life   Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by,   Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill.

Out of our evil seek to bring forth good

Extol not riches, then, the toil of fools, The wise man's cumbrance, if not snare; more apt To slacken virtue and abate her edge Than prompt her to do aught may merit praise.

But now at last the sacred influence Of light appears, and rom the walls of Heav'n Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night A glimmering dawn; here Nature first begins her farthest verge, and Chaos to retire As from her outmost works a broken foe With tumult less and with less hostile din

Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, That wash thy hallowed feet and warbling flow, Nightly I visit.

Rose out of Chaos: