John Milton

For what can war, but acts of war still breed, Till injur'd truth from violence be freed?

The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.

Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heav'n.

Long is the way And hard, that out of Hell leads up to light.

He who reigns within himself, and rules passions, desires, and fears, is more than a king.

Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant Nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks.

A good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.

For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a progeny of life in them to be as active as that soul whose progeny they are.

To be blind is not miserable; but to be incapable of enduring blindness, that is miserable.

Who ever knew truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter?

He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true warfaring Christian.

Peace hath her victories No less renown'd than war.

Such as are not fit to marry, are not fit to live.

For God, we know, hath bid the man to rule: But in that right, not with a tyrannous hand.

The childhood shows the man, as morning shows the day.

Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the World, and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat, Sing Heav'nly Muse.

What in me is dark Illumine, what is low raise and support; That to the highth of this great Argument I may assert Eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men.

Awake, arise, or be for ever fall'n!

The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They hand in hand with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.

Yet much remains To conquer still; peace hath her victories No less renown'd than war.