Quotes from John Milton

Much of the Soul they talk, but all awry; And in themselves seek virtue; and to themselves All glory arrogate, to God give none

Firm they might have stood, yet fell; remember, and fear to transgress.

But to guide nations in the way of Truth By saving Doctrine, and from error lead To know, and knowing worship God aright, Is yet more knightly, this attracts the Soul, Governs the inner man, the nobler part, That other o'er the body only reigns, And oft by force, which to a generous mind so reigning can be no sincere delight.

Gabriel, to thee thy course by lot hath given Charge and strict watch that to this happy place No evil thing approach or enter in.

Say they who counsel war; 'we are decreed, Reserved, and destined to eternal woe; Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, What can we suffer worse?' Is this then worst

Upon himself; horror and doubt distract His troubl'd thoughts, and from the bottom stirr The Hell within him, for within him Hell He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell One step no more then from himself can fly By

He also went invisible, yet stayed (such privilege hath omnipresence).

Their rising all at once was as the sound Of thunder heard remote.

But his doom 54: Reserv'd him to more wrath; for now the thought 55: Both of lost happiness and lasting pain 56: Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes 57: That witness'd huge affliction and dismay 58: Mixt with obdurate pride and stedfast hate:

159: To do ought good never will be our task, 160: But ever to do ill our sole delight, 161: As being the contrary to his high will 162: Whom we resist. If then his Providence 163: Out of our evil seek to bring forth good, 164: Our labour must be to pervert that end, 165: And out of good still to find means of evil;

So little knows Any but God alone to value right The good before him but perverts best things To worst abuse or to their meanest use.

What could be less than to afford Him praise, The easiest recompense, and pay Him thanks? How due! Yet all His good proved ill in me And wrought but malice. Lifted up so high