Quotes from John Milton

Calm of mind, all passion spent.

O fairest of creation! last and bestOf all God's works! creature in whom excell'dWhatever can to sight or thought be form'd,Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost,Defac'd, deflower'd, and now to Death devote?

See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds,With Joy and Love triumphing.

Him the Almighty PowerHurl'd headlong flaming from th' ethereal skyWith hideous ruin and combustion downTo bottomless perdition, there to dwellIn adamantine chains and penal fire,Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms.

Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peaceAnd rest can never dwell, hope never comesThat comes to all.

The wakeful nightingale,She all night long her amorous descant sung;Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the firmamentWith living sapphires: Hesperus, that ledThe starry host, rode brightest, till the moon,Rising in clouded majesty, at lengthApparent queen unveil'd her peerless light,And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.

He that studieth revenge keepeth his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well.

Such strains as would have won the earOf Pluto, to have quite set freeHis half-regain'd Eurydice.These delights, if thou canst give,Mirth, with thee, I mean to live.

For now I seePeace to corrupt no less than war to waste.

Thrice he assay'd, and thrice, in spite of scorn,Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth.

From mornTo noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,A summer's day; and with the setting sunDropp'd from the zenith like a falling star.

Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to my conscience, above all liberties.

Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?

Bacchus, that first from out the purple grapeCrush'd the sweet poison of misused wine.

And storied windows richly dight,Casting a dim religious light.There let the pealing organ blow,To the full-voiced choir below,In service high, and anthems clearAs may, with sweetness, through mine earDissolve me into ecstasies,And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.

Let none admireThat riches grow in hell; that soil may bestDeserve the precious bane.

The conquer'd, also, and enslaved by war, Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose.

The seat of desolation, void of light.

Thus Belial with words cloth'd in reason's garbCounsel'd ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth,Not peace.

Beauty standsIn the admiration only of weak mindsLed captive.

The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw,Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:Besides what the grim wolf with privy pawDaily devours apace, and nothing said;But that two-handed engine at the doorStands ready to smite once, and smite no more.

Though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously, by licensing and prohibiting, to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter?

Or bid the soul of Orpheus singSuch notes as, warbled to the string,Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.

Spirits, when they please,Can either sex assume, or both.