Paradise Lost Book 1 Quotes by John Milton and many others.

Smiles from reason flow, To brute deny’d, and are of love the food.
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.
Let none admire that riches grow in hell; that soil may best deserve the precious bane.
Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.
And, when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
Who overcomes by force, hath overcome but half his foe.
The work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint.
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
Among unequals what society Can sort, what harmony, or true delight?
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.
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.
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.
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.
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where th’ Etrurian shades High over-arch’d imbower.
To adore the conqueror, who now beholds Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood.
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav’n.
From morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,- A summer’s day; and with the setting sun Dropp’d from the Zenith like a falling star.