John Milton

A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.

The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.

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

Men of most renowned virtue have sometimes by transgressing most truly kept the law.

No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.

I will not deny but that the best apology against false accusers is silence and sufferance, and honest deeds set against dishonest words.

Peace hath her victories
No less renowned than war.

None can love freedom heartily, but good men; the rest love not freedom, but license.

When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless.

Such bickerings to recount, met often in these our writers, what more worth is it than to chronicle the wars of kites or crows flocking and fighting in the air?