Paradise Lost Book 1 Quotes by John Milton and many others.
The work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint.
Farewell happy fields, Where joy forever dwells: Hail, horrors, hail.
As in an organ from one blast of wind
To many a row of pipes the soundboard breathes.
To many a row of pipes the soundboard breathes.
So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
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 heavenly muse
And, re-assembling our afflicted powers, consult how we may henceforth most offend.
And, when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
Where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes,
That comes to all.
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes,
That comes to all.
Should God create another Eve, and I Another Rib afford, yet loss of thee Would never from my heart; no no, I feel The Link of Nature draw me: Flesh of Flesh, Bone of my Bone thou art, and from thy State Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.
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. 1 Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 22.
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav’n.
Th’ imperial ensign, which full high advanc’d
Shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind.
Shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind.
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace, flamed; yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Serv’d only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without end.
Fairy elves, Whose midnight revels by a forest side Or fountain some belated peasant sees, Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon Sits arbitress.
To adore the conqueror, who now beholds Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood.
Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.
Here we may reign secure; and in my choice
To reign is worth ambition, though in hell:
Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
To reign is worth ambition, though in hell:
Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
