John Milton Art Quotations

But when Lust By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, But most by lewd and lavish arts of sin, Lets in defilement to the inward parts, The soul grows clotted by contagion, Imbodies and imbrutes, till she quite lose The divine property of her first being.

Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss.

Thou art my father, thou my author, thou my being gav'st me; whom should I obey but thee, whom follow?

My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth.

Should God create another Eve, and I Another Rib afford, yet loss of thee Would never from my heart; no no, I feel The Link of Nature draw me: Flesh of Flesh, Bone of my Bone thou art, and from thy State Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.

Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.

If this fail, The pillar'd firmament is rottenness, And earth's base built on stubble.

Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?

But oh the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return!

Son of Heav'n and Earth, Attend: that thou art happy, owe to God; That thou continuest such, owe to thyself, That is, to thy obedience; therein stand.

Here the great art lies, to discern in what the law is to be to restraint and punishment, and in what things persuasion only is to work.

Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call earth.

Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl, When Adam wak'd, so custom'd; for his sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.

Good luck befriend thee, Son; for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.

Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.

Spirits that live throughout, Vital in every part, not as frail man, In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins, Cannot but by annihilating die.

Yet I argue not Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer Right onward.

Sabrina fair, Listen where thou art sitting Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair.

With thee goes Thy husband, him to follow thou art bound; Where he abides, think there thy native soil.

I see thou art implacable, more deaf To pray'rs than winds and seas. Yet winds to seas Are reconcil'd at length, and sea to shore: Thy anger, unappeasable, still rages Eternal tempest never to be calm'd.

And the earth self-balanced on her centre hung.

The earth, though in comparison of heaven so small, nor glistering, may of solid good contain more plenty than the sun, that barren shines.

Know thy birth! For dost thou art, and shalt to dust return.

In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread, Till thou return unto the ground; for thou Out of the ground wast taken; know thy birth, For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return.

My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.

What can 'scape the eye Of God, all-seeing, or deceive His heart. Omniscient!

Thy actions to thy words accord; thy words To thy large heart give utterance due; thy heart; Contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.

These eyes, tho' clear To outward view of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot, Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, not bate a jot Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer Right onward.

O fairest of creation, last and best Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled Whatever can to sight or thought be formed, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost, Defaced, deflow'red, and now to death devote? Paradise Lost

Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence.

The martyrs shook the powers of darkness with the irresistible power of weakness.

There is nothing that making men rich and strong but that which they carry inside of them. True wealth is of the heart, not of the hand.

But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, / Now thou art gone, and never must return!

None can love freedom heartily but good men; the rest love not freedom, but license which never hath more scope than under tyrants

Sabrina fair, / Listen where thou art sitting/ Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, / In twisted braids of lilies knitting / The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair.

Aristotle ... imputed this symphony of the heavens ... this music of the spheres to Pythagorus. ... But Pythagoras alone of mortals is said to have heard this harmony ... If our hearts were as pure, as chaste, as snowy as Pythagoras' was, our ears would resound and be filled with that supremely lovely music of the wheeling stars.

There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.

Anon out of the earth a fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation.

O nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still; Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill While the jolly hours lead on propitious May.

Yet hold it more humane, more heav'nly, first, By winning words to conquer willing hearts, And make persuasion do the work of fear.

Thou O Spirit, that dost prefer Before all Temples th' upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss And mad'st it pregnant: What is in me dark Illumine, what is low raise and support; That to the heighth of this great Argument I may assert Eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men.

In those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against nature not to go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth unseen, both when we sleep and when we awake.

I argue not against heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot of heart or hope, but still bear up, and steer right onward

Thou O Spirit, that dost prefer Before all Temples th' upright heart and pure