John Milton

It is lawful and hath been held so through all ages for any one who have the power to call to account a tyrant or wicked king, and after due conviction to depose and put him to death.

Into this wild Abyss/ The womb of Nature, and perhaps her grave--/ Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire,/ But all these in their pregnant causes mixed/ Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight,/ Unless the Almighty Maker them ordain/ His dark materials to create more worlds,--/ Into this wild Abyss the wary Fiend/ Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while,/ Pondering his voyage; for no narrow frith/ He had to cross.

The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to owe; Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd; what burden then?

The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make heaven of Hell, and a hell of Heaven.

None can love freedom heartily, but good men; the rest love not freedom, but licence.

Sweet bird, that shun the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy!

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

Where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand; For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mast'ry.

So dear I love him, that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life.

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.

Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.

And fast by, hanging in a golden chain, This pendent world, in bigness as a star Of smallest magnitude, close by the moon.

Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies.

The never-ending flight Of future days.

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

So spake the seraph Abdiel, faithful found; Among the faithless, faithful only he.

My latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever new delight!

The strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.

Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy In sceptred pall come sweeping by, Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine.

And ever against eating cares Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse