John Milton image
star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Born in December 6, 1608 / Died in November 8, 1674 / United Kingdom / English

Quotes by 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.
Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end.
To be blind is not miserable; not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable.
Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
Who overcomes by force, hath overcome but half his foe.
Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown in courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, where most may wonder at the workmanship.
He that studieth revenge keepeth his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well.
He that has light within his own clear breast May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day: But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; Himself his own dungeon.
A good book is the precious lifeblood of a master spirit.
Virtue could see to do what Virtue would by her own radiant light, though sun and moon where in the flat sea sunk.
Less excellent, as thou thyself perceivest.
He who reigns within himself and rules passions, desires, and fears is more than a king.
Let not England forget her precedence of teaching nations how to live.
Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to my conscience, above all liberties.
For what can war, but endless war, still breed?
The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
The superior man acquaints himself with many sayings of antiquity and many deeds of the past, in order to strengthen his character thereby.
Better to reign in hell than serve in heav'n.
Though we take from a covetous man all his treasure, he has yet one jewel left; you cannot bereave him of his covetousness.
Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image, but thee who destroys a good book, kills reason its self.
Deep-versed in books and shallow in himself.
Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined; Till at his second bidding darkness fled, Light shone, and order from disorder sprung.
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
They also serve who only stand and wait.
True it is that covetousness is rich, modesty starves.