John Milton - Sweet Quotes

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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
Capricious, wanton, bold, and brutal Lust Is meanly selfish; when resisted, cruel; And, like the blast of Pestilential Winds, Taints the sweet bloom of Nature's fairest forms.

John Milton
Into the blissful field, through Groves of Myrrhe, And flouring Odours, Cassia, Nard, and Blame; A Wilderness of Sweets...

John Milton
Awake, the morning shines, and the fresh field Call us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring Our tended Plants, how blows the Citron Grove, What drops the Myrrhe, & what the balmie Reed, How Nature paints her colours, how the Bee Sits on the Bloom, extracting liquid sweet.

John Milton
They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet Quaff immortality and joy.

John Milton
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 surfeit reigns.

John Milton
Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape Crush'd the sweet poison of misused wine.

John Milton
For contemplation he and valour formed,
For softness she and sweet attractive grace,
He for God only, she for God in him.

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

John Milton
Thus with the year Seasons return; but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me; from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank Of Nature's works, to me expung'd and raz'd, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.

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
Implied
Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway,
And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd,
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,
And sweet reluctant amorous delay.

John Milton
Thus with the year
Seasons return, but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine.

John Milton
Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly,
Most musical, most melancholy!

John Milton
Those graceful acts, those thousand decencies, that daily flow from all her words and actions, mixed with love and sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned union of mind, or in us both one soul.

John Milton
O fairest of creation! last and best
Of all God's works! creature in whom excell'd
Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd,
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!
How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost,
Defac'd, deflower'd, and now to Death devote?

John Milton
For solitude sometimes is best society,
And short retirement urges sweet return.

John Milton
Sweet the coming on Of grateful ev'ning mild, then silent night With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train.

John Milton