Quotes
Quotes - Milton
Thrice he assay'd, and thrice in spite of scorn
Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth.
Who overcomes
By force, hath overcome but half his foe.
Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell
From heaven; for ev'n in heaven his looks and thoughts
Were always downward bent, admiring more
The riches of heaven's pavement, trodden gold,
Than aught divine or holy else enjoy'd
In vision beatific.
Let none admire
That riches grow in hell: that soil may best
Deserve the precious bane.
Anon out of the earth a fabric huge
Rose, like an exhalation.
From morn
To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,--
A summer's day; and with the setting sun
Dropp'd from the Zenith like a falling star.
Fairy elves,
Whose midnight revels by a forest side
Or fountain some belated peasant sees,
Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon
Sits arbitress.
High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind,
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,
Satan exalted sat, by merit rais'd
To that bad eminence.
Surer to prosper than prosperity
Could have assur'd us.
The strongest and the fiercest spirit
That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.
Rather than be less,
Car'd not to be at all.
My sentence is for open war.
That in our proper motion we ascend
Up to our native seat: descent and fall
To us is adverse.
When the scourge
Inexorable and the torturing hour
Call us to penance.
Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.
But all was false and hollow; though his tongue
Dropp'd manna, and could make the worse appear
The better reason, to perplex and dash
Maturest counsels.
Th' ethereal mould
Incapable of stain would soon expel
Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire,
Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope
Is flat despair.
For who would lose,
Though full of pain this intellectual being,
Those thoughts that wander through eternity,
To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night?
His red right hand.
Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd.
The never-ending flight
Of future days.
Our torments also may in length of time
Become our elements.
With grave
Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd
A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven
Deliberation sat, and public care;
And princely counsel in his face yet shone,
Majestic though in ruin: sage he stood,
With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear
The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look
Drew audience and attention still as night
Or summer's noontide air.
The palpable obscure.
Long is the way
And hard, that out of hell leads up to light.
