John Milton Quotes

606 Sourced Quotes

That practis'd falsehood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge.

John Milton
The teachers of our law, and to propose
What might improve my knowledge or their own.

John Milton
Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter, holding both his sides.
Come, and trip it, as you go.
On the light fantastic toe.

John Milton
Litigious terms, fat contentions, and flowing fees.

John Milton
Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones
Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold;
Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old
When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones
Forget not.

John Milton
Virtue could see to do what Virtue would By her own radiant light, though sun and moon Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, Where, with her best nurse Contemplation, She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings.

John Milton
Cyriack, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounced and in his volumes taught our Laws,
Which others at their Bar so often wrench

John Milton
Hide me from day's garish eye,
While the bee with honied thigh,
That at her flowery work doth sing,
And the waters murmuring
With such consort as they keep,
Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.

John Milton
Come, pensive nun, devout and pure,
Sober, steadfast, and demure.

John Milton
Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of heaven's joy,
Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice, and Verse.

John Milton
My race of glory run, and race of shame,
And I shall shortly be with them at rest.

John Milton
Chaos umpire sits And by decision more embroils the fray by which he reigns: next him high arbiter Chance governs all.

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

John Milton
And when night
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons
Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.

John Milton
Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded,
But must be current, and the good thereof
Consists in mutual and partaken bliss.

John Milton
Arm th' obdur'd breast With stubborn patience as with triple steel.

John Milton
Now the bright morning-star, Day's harbinger,
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire
Mirth, and youth, and warm desire!
Woods and groves are of thy dressing;
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

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

John Milton
O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white handed Hope, Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings.

John Milton
To be weak is miserable,
Doing or suffering.

John Milton
Unless an age too late, or cold Climate, or years damp my intended wing.

John Milton
Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain; if her waters flow not in perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition.

John Milton
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph that liv'st unseen
Within thy airy shell
By slow Meander's margent green,
And in the violet-embroidered vale.

John Milton
The great Emathian conqueror bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower
Went to the ground.

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

John Milton
But he, though blind of sight,
Despised, and thought extinguished quite,
With inward eyes illuminated,
His fiery virtue roused
From under ashes into sudden flame,
[...]
So Virtue, given for lost,
Depressed and overthrown, as seemed,
Like that self-begotten bird
In the Arabian woods embost,
That no second knows now third,
And lay erewhile a holocaust,
From out her ashy womb now teemed,
Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous most
When most unactive deemed;
And, though her body die, her fame survives,
A secular bird, ages of lives.

John Milton
With thee conversing I forget all time,
All seasons, and their change; all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds.

John Milton
Who overcomes
By force, hath overcome but half his foe.

John Milton
To perish rather, swallowed up and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night.

John Milton
Anon they move
In perfect phalanx, to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders.

John Milton