Zitate von John Milton

Informationen über John Milton

Literat, Gelehrter, Pädagoge, Dichter (England, 1608 - 1674).

John Milton · Geburtsdatum · Sterbedatum

John Milton wäre heute 416 Jahre, 3 Monate, 26 Tage oder 152.057 Tage alt.

Geboren am 09.12.1608 in London
Gestorben am 08.11.1674 in London
Sternzeichen: ♐ Schütze

• Tomorrow to fresh woods and pastures anew.

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• Towered cities please us then, And the busy hum of men.

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• Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam.

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

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• United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprise.

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• Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair.

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• Virtue could see to do what Virtue would By her own radiant light, though sun and moon Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retirèd solitude, Where with her best nurse Contemplation, She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings That in the various bustle of resort Were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired. He that has light within his own clear breast May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day, But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the midday sun; Himself is his own dungeon.

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• Warring in heaven against heaven's matchless king.

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• Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?

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• What hath night to do with sleep?

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• What I have spoken, is the language of that which is not called amiss The good old Cause.

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• What if earth Be but the shadow of heaven, and things therein Each to other like, more than on earth is thought?

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• What in me is dark Illumine, what is low raise and support; That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal providence, And justify the ways of God to men.

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• What is strength without a double share of wisdom? Strength's not made to rule, but to subserve, where wisdom bears command.

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• What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones, The labour of an age in pilèd stones, Or that his hallowed relicts should be hid under a starry-pointed pyramid?

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• What reinforcement we may gain from hope; If not, what resolution from despair.

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• What resounds In fable or romance of Uther's son Begirt with British and Armoric knights; And all who since, baptized or infidel, Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban, Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond, Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore When Charlemain with all his peerage fell By Fontarabia.

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• What the sage poets taught by th' heavenly Muse, Storied of old in high immortal verse Of dire chimeras and enchanted isles, And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to hell, For such there be, but unbelief is blind.

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• What thou art is mine; Our state cannot be severed, we are one, One flesh; to lose thee were to lose my self.

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• When I consider how my light is spent, E're half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless . . . Doth God exact day-labour, light denied, I fondly ask; but patience to prevent That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts, who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best, his state Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed Andpost o'er land and ocean without rest: They also serve who only stand and wait.

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