Pandemonium, the high capital Of Satan and his peers.— John Milton
Memorable Paradise Lost Book 1 quotations
All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.
And out of good still to find means of evil.
Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
Yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible.
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.
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.
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.
Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.
Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.
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.
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.
Spirits when they please Can either sex assume, or both.
To adore the conqueror, who now beholds Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood.
So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
Where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes, That comes to all.
Farewell happy fields, Where joy forever dwells: Hail, horrors, hail.
Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell.
As in an organ from one blast of wind To many a row of pipes the soundboard breathes.
Unless an age too late, or cold Climate, or years, damp my intended wing.
Anon out of the earth a fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation.
Among unequals what society Can sort, what harmony, or true delight?
The work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint.
Smiles from reason flow, To brute deny'd, and are of love the food.
His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast Of some great ammiral were but a wand, He walk'd with to support uneasy steps Over the burning marle.
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades High over-arch'd imbower.
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprise.
Th' imperial ensign, which full high advanc'd Shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind.