The work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint.
More Quotes from John Milton:
Lord how many are my foesHow many those
That in arms against me rise
Many are they
That of my life distrustfully thus say,
No help for him in God there lies.
John Milton
Or if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.
John Milton
When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves With minute drops from off the eaves.
John Milton
That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp.
John Milton
My sentence is for open war.
John Milton
Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
John Milton
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