Quotes from John Milton

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.

Where no hope is left, is left no fear.

Beauty is God's handwriting-a wayside sacrament.

Every cloud has a silver lining.

Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam.

To adore the conqueror, who now beholds Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood.

You can make hell out of heaven and heaven out of hell. It's all in the mind.

The martyrs shook the powers of darkness with the irresistible power of weakness.

Death from sin no power can separate.

Justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries.

And if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of Him who all things can, I would not cease To weary Him with my assiduous cries.

But that from us aught should ascend to Heav'n So prevalent as to concern the mind Of God, high-bless'd, or to incline His will, Hard to belief may seem; yet this will prayer.

Yet some there be that by due steps aspireTo lay their just hands on that golden keyThat opes the palace of Eternity.To such my errand is

Don't hold grudges; it's pointless. Jealousy too is a non-cathartic, negative emotion. .

Nor jealousy Was understood, the injur'd lover's hell.

Gratitude bestows reverence.....changing forever how we experience life and the world.

And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.

Nothing profits more than self-esteem, grounded on what is just and right.

Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be a sin to know? Can it be death?

God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time.

Let not England forget her precedence of teaching nations how to live.

Our cure, to be no more; sad cure!

O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse Without all hope of day!

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.