John Milton Quotes (574 Quotes)

And, re-assembling our afflicted powers, consult how we may henceforth most offend.

Tower'd cities please us then, And the busy hum of men.

Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, In every gesture dignity and love.

No light, but rather darkness visible.

Just deeds are the best answer to injurious words.

Son of Heavn and Earth, Attend that thou art happy, owe to God That thou continuest such, owe to thyself, That is, to thy obedience therein stand.

Long is the way And hard, that out of hell leads up to light.

For pity melts the mind to love.

The troublesome and modern bondage of rhyming.

Heaven open'd wide Her ever during gates, harmonious sound, On golden hinges moving.

Midnight shout and revelry, Tipsy dance and jollity.

And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.

Ere the blabbing eastern scout, The nice morn, on th' Indian steep From her cabin'd loop-hole peep.

Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.

A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, And pavement stars, as stars to thee appear Seen in the galaxy, that milky way Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars.

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

Be strong, live happy, and love, but first of all Him whom to love is to obey

As far as angels' ken.

Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear Touch'd lightly for no falsehood can endure Touch of celestial temper.

Who shall silence all the airs and madrigals that whisper softness in chambers.

His red right hand.

So spake the seraph Abdiel, faithful found Among the faithless, faithful only he.

Budge doctors of the Stoic fur.

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

Herbs, and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses.

Morn, Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand Unbarr'd the gates of light.

Books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are nay they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.

God is decreeing to begin some new and great period in His Church, even to the reforming of Reformation itself. What does He then but reveal Himself to His servants, and as His manner is, first to His Englishmen.

How charming is divine Philosophy!

To be blind is not miserable; not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable.

The childhood shows the man, As morning shows the day. Be famous then By wisdom as thy empire must extend, So let extend thy mind o'er all the world.

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise.

Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.

Beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds Led captive.

All is best, though we oft doubt, What the unsearchable dispose.

And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet.

Just law indeed, but more exceeding love!

What love sincere, and reverence in my heart
I bear thee, and unweeting have offended,
Unhappily deceived!

The end of all learning is to know God, and out of that knowledge to love and imitate Him.

The hell within him.

Such joy ambition finds.

The mind can make a heaven out of hell or a hell out of heaven

Their fatal hands No second stroke intend.

Childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day.

Hence loathd Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born.

Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine.

No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.

Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces.

Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire Help waste a sullen day, what may be won From the hard season gaining Time will run On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire The lily and rose, that neither sowed nor spun. What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise To hear the lute well touched, or artful voice Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air He who of those delights can judge, and spare To interpose them oft, is not unwise.

Enjoy your dear wit and gay rhetoric, That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence.