John Milton
John Milton
John Miltonwas an English poet, polemicist, and man of letters, and a civil servant for the Commonwealth of England under Oliver Cromwell. He wrote at a time of religious flux and political upheaval, and is best known for his epic poem Paradise Lost, written in blank verse...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth9 December 1608
solitude sometimes
Solitude is sometimes the best society.
faithful gates
And to the faithful: death, the gate of life.
spring book men
Books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them....I know they are as lively and as vigorously productive as those fabulous dragon's teeth and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men.
father world merit
...it ought not to appear wonderful if many, both Jews and others, who lived before Christ, and many also who have lived since his time, but to whom he has never been revealed, should be saved by faith in God alone: still however, through the sole merits of Christ, inasmuch as he was given and slain from the beginning of the world, even for those to whom he was not known, provided they believed in God the Father.
intention conversation ends
In God's intention, a meet and happy conversation is the chiefest and noblest end of marriage.
light may enjoy
He that hath light within their own breast, may sit in the centre and enjoy bright day.
sole tyranny paradise-lost-book-1
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
sea sorrow deep-sorrow
Seas wept from our deep sorrows.
stars dust gold
A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, And pavement stars,--as stars to thee appear Seen in the galaxy, that milky way Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars.
gay taught fence
Enjoy your dear wit and gay rhetoric, That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence.
wise thinking thee
Be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee and thy being.
should horrible famine
Death Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hear His famine should be fill'd.
stars night lasts
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn.
nice cabins holes
Ere the blabbing eastern scout, The nice morn, on th' Indian steep From her cabin'd loop-hole peep.