John Milton Quotes

O Conscience! into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me; out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged!"
John Milton (1608-1674), British poet. Paradise Lost (l. Bk. X, l. 842-844). TOF. The Complete Poetry of John Milton. John T. Shawcross, ed. (1963, rev. ed. 1971) Doubleday.
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peace hath her victories No less renowned than war; new foes arise, Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains: Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves whose gospel is their maw.
John Milton (1608-1674), British poet. To the Lord General Cromwell (l. 10-14). . . The Complete Poetry of John Milton. John T. Shawcross, ed. (1963, rev. ed. 1971) Doubleday.
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Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason's garb, Counseled ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, Not peace.
John Milton (1608-1674), British poet. Paradise Lost, bk. 2, l. 226-8 (1667). Referring to the debate convened by Satan in the palace of Pandemonium, to deliberate whether to launch a battle to recover heaven.
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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, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide, "Doth God exact day labor, light denied?" I fondly ask; by 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 (1608-1674), British poet. When I Consider How My Light Is Spent (l. 1-14). . . The Complete Poetry of John Milton. John T. Shawcross, ed. (1963, rev. ed. 1971) Doubleday.
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Be it so, for I submit; his doom is fair, That dust I am and shall to dust return. O welcome hour whenever! Why delays His hand to execute what his decree Fixed on this day? Why do I overlive? Why am I mocked with death, and lengthened out To deathless pain? How gladly would I meet Mortality, my sentence, and be earth Insensible! how glad would lay me down As in my mother's lap!
John Milton (1608-1674), British poet. Paradise Lost (l. Bk. X, l. 769-778). TOF. The Complete Poetry of John Milton. John T. Shawcross, ed. (1963, rev. ed. 1971) Doubleday.
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Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower: The great Emathian conqueror bid spare The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground; and the repeated air Of sad Electra's poet had the power To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.
John Milton (1608-1674), British poet. When the Assault Was Intended to the City (l. 9-14). . . The Complete Poetry of John Milton. John T. Shawcross, ed. (1963, rev. ed. 1971) Doubleday.
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So farewell hope, and with hope, farewell fear, Farewell remorse! All good to me is lost; Evil, be thou my Good: by thee at least Divided empire with Heaven's King I hold, By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign; As Man ere long, and this new World, shall know."
John Milton (1608-1674), British poet. Paradise Lost (l. Bk. IV, l. 108-113). OBS. The Complete Poetry of John Milton. John T. Shawcross, ed. (1963, rev. ed. 1971) Doubleday.
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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.
John Milton (1608-1674), British poet. Paradise Lost (l. Bk. XII, l. 581-587). . . The Complete Poetry of John Milton. John T. Shawcross, ed. (1963, rev. ed. 1971) Doubleday.
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"Forsake me not thus, Adam! witness Heaven What love sincere and reverence in my heart I bear thee, and unweeting have offended, Unhappily deceived! Thy suppliant I beg, and clasp thy knees; beereave me not, Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, Thy counsel in this uttermost distress, My only strength and stay: forlorn of thee, Whither shall I betake me, where subsist?
John Milton (1608-1674), British poet. Paradise Lost (l. Bk. X, l. 914-922). TOF. The Complete Poetry of John Milton. John T. Shawcross, ed. (1963, rev. ed. 1971) Doubleday.
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The sixth, and of creation last arose With evening harps and matin, when God said, Let the earth bring forth soul living in her kind, Cattle and creeping things, and beast of the earth, Each in their kind. The earth obeyed, and straight Opening her fertile womb teemed at a birth Innumerous living creatures, perfect forms, Limbed and full grown: out of the ground up rose As from his lair the wild beast where he wons In forest wild, in thicket, brake, or den; Among the trees in pairs they rose, they walked: The cattle in the fields and meadows green: Those rare and solitary, these in flocks Pasturing at once, and in broad herds upsprung. The grassy clods now calved, now half appeared The tawny lion, pawing to get free His hinder parts, then springs as broke from bonds,
John Milton (1608-1674), British poet. Paradise Lost (l. Bk. VII, l. 449-465). FM. The Complete Poetry of John Milton. John T. Shawcross, ed. (1963, rev. ed. 1971) Doubleday.
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