John Milton Quotes

John Milton Quotes

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.

Even the demons are encouraged when their chief is "not lost in loss itself.

Freely we serve
Because we freely love, as in our will
To love or not; in this we stand or fall.

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

Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.

Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules
Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king.

He who thinks we are to pitch our tent here, and have attained the utmost prospect of reformation that the mortal glass wherein we contemplate can show us, till we come to beatific vision, that man by this very opinion declares that he is yet far short of truth.

How charming is divine Philosophy!
Not harsh, and crabbed as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo's lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets,
Where no crude surfet raigns.

I will not deny but that the best apology against false accusers is silence and sufferance, and honest deeds set against dishonest words.

Here at last
We shall be free;
the Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reign secure, and in my choice
To reign is worth ambition though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven.

The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith makes up the highest perfection.

Be strong, live happy and love, but first of all
Him whom to love is to obey, and keep
His great command!

No man [...] can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free, being the image and resemblance of God himself.

Farewell Hope, and with Hope farewell Fear

Consult.../what reinforcement we may gain from hope,/If not, what resolution from despair.

And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,
That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.

Where the bright seraphim in burning row
Their loud uplifted angel trumpets blow.

Our state cannot be severed, we are one,
One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself.

Henceforth an individual solace dear;
Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim
My other half: with that thy gentle hand
Seisd mine, I yielded, and from that time see
How beauty is excelld by manly grace.

From morn to noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, a summer's day; and with the setting sun dropped from the zenith like a falling star.

Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They hand in hand with wand'ring steps and slow, through Eden took their solitary way.

Is it true, O Christ in heaven, that the highest suffer the most?
That the strongest wander furthest and most hopelessly are lost?
That the mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain?
That the anguish of the singer makes the sweetness of the strain?

Only add
Deeds to thy knowledge answerable; add faith;
Add virtue, patience, temperance; add love,
By name to come called charity, the soul
Of all the rest: then wilt thou not be loath
To leave this Paradise; but shalt possess
A paradise within thee, happier far.

For 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.

A good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.

Many a man lives a burden to the Earth, but a good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, imbalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.

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

And looks commercing with the skies,
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.

In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against Nature not to go out, and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.

What think'st thou then of mee, and this my State,
Seem I to thee sufficiently possest
Of happiness, or not? who am alone
From all Eternitie, for none I know
Second to mee or like, equal much less.

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

Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind.

For so I created them free and free they must remain.

Frei ist, wer der Vernunft gehorcht.

Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell
Receive thy new Possessor: One who brings
A mind not to be chang'd by Place or Time.
The mind is its own place, and in it self
Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.

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