John Milton - Light Quotes

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Doth God exact day-labour, light denied,
I fondly ask; but patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts, who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best, his state
Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.

John Milton
Where glowing embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,
Far from all resort of mirth,
Save the cricket on the hearth.

John Milton
And I will place within them as a guide My umpire conscience, whom if they will hear Light after light well used they shall attain, And to the end persisting, safe arrive.

John Milton
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace, flamed; yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without end.

John Milton
When the new light which we beg for shines in upon us, there be [those] who envy and oppose, if it come not first in at their casements.

John Milton
This horror will grow mild, this darkness light; Besides what hope the never-ending flight Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting--since our present lot appears For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, If we procure not to ourselves more woe.

John Milton
From that high mount of God whence light and shade Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed To grateful twilight.

John Milton
Hail universal Lord, be bounteous still To give us only good; and if the night Have gathered aught of evil or concealed, Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.

John Milton
Thou sun, said I, fair light, And thou enlightened earth so fresh and gay, Ye hills and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains, And ye that live and move, fair creatures, tell - Tell if ye saw, how came I thus, how here?

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

John Milton
No light, but rather darkness visible
Served only to discover sights of woe.

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

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
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
Hear all ye angels, progeny of light,
Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers.

John Milton
The stars, that nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps with everlasting oil, give due light to the misled and lonely traveller.

John Milton
Hail, holy light! offspring of heav'n firstborn.

John Milton
Come, knit hands, and beat the ground,
In a light fantastic round.

John Milton
And God made two great lights, great for their use
To man, the greater to have rule by day, The less by night...

John Milton
But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began.

John Milton
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless.

John Milton
His sleep
Was airy light from pure digestion bred.

John Milton
He that has light within his own clear breast,
May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day;
But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun;
Himself is his own dungeon.

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

John Milton
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
Of Attic taste?

John Milton