John Milton

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.

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.

With thee conversing I forget all time.

With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded.

Come to the sunset tree! The day is past and gone; The woodman's axe lies free, And the reaper's work is done.

That practis'd falsehood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge.

For evil news rides post, while good news baits.

Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democratie, Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.

What needs my Shakespeare for his honour'd bones,- The labour of an age in piled stones? Or that his hallow'd relics should be hid Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?

Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain; if her waters flow not in perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition.

How gladly would I meet mortality, my sentence, and be earth in sensible! How glad would lay me down, as in my mother's lap! There I should rest, and sleep secure.

Here we may reign secure; and in my choice_x000D_ _x000D_ To reign is worth ambition, though in hell:_x000D_ _x000D_ Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.

Accuse not nature: she hath done her part; Do thou but thine.

Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north - wind's breath, And stars to set; but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

Midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.

The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.

Who shall silence all the airs and madrigals that whisper softness in chambers?

The childhood shows the man As morning shows the day. Be famous then By wisdom; as thy empire must extend, So let extend thy mind o'er all the world.

Better to reign in hell than serve in heav'n.

Innumerable as the stars of night, Or stars of morning, dewdrops which the sun Impearls on every leaf and every flower.

Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.