Quotes from John Milton

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!

Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper.

That space the Evil One abstracted stood From his own evil, and for the time remained Stupidly good, of enmity disarmed, Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge .

Anarchy is the sure consequence of tyranny; or no power that is not limited by laws can ever be protected by them

Confidence imparts a wonderful inspiration to its possessor

For neither man nor angel can discern Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks Invisible, except to God alone.

For neither man nor angel can discern Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks Invisible, except to God alone, By his permissive will, through heav'n and earth.

The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make heaven of Hell, and a hell of Heaven.

Time, the subtle thief of youth

Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined; Till at his second bidding darkness fled, Light shone, and order from disorder sprung.

Loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named, not good

Revenge, at first though sweet,Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.

Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks invisible, except to God alone.

These false pretexts and varnished colours failing, Rare in thy guilt how foul must thou appear.

Where shame is, there is also fear.

The best apology against false accusers is silence and sufferance, and honest deeds set against dishonest words.

Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine.

Sweet the coming on / Of grateful evening mild; then silent night / With this her solemn bird and this fair moon, / And these the gems of heaven, her starry train.

He's gone, and who knows how may he report Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?

How gladly would I meet mortality, my sentence, and be earth in sensible! how glad would lay me down, as in my mother's lap! There I should rest, and sleep secure.

Since good, the more Communicated, more abundant grows.

Subtle he needs must be, who could seduce Angels.

He who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things ought himself to be a true poem.

. . . God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts; who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best; his State is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed And post o'er Land and Ocean without rest: They also serve who only stand and wait.