Better to reign in hell than serve in heav'n.— John Milton
Belligerent Paradise Lost Book 9 quotations
Pandemonium, the high capital Of Satan and his peers.
All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.
Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.
Abash'd the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is.
And out of good still to find means of evil.
Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
So dear I love him, that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life.
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.
Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.
Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.
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.
For contemplation he and valour formed;
/ For softness she and sweet attractive grace, / He for God only, she for God in him: / His fair large front and eye sublime declared / Absolute rule.
Who aspires must down as low As high he soar'd.
Now came still evening on; and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, They to they grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
Spirits when they please Can either sex assume, or both.
Hope elevates, and joy Brightens his crest.
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.
A grateful mind/ By owing owes not, but still pays, at once/ Indebted and discharg'd.
Where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes, That comes to all.
Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless.
Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be a sin to know? Can it be death?
Our state cannot be severed, we are one, One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself.
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.
For no falsehood can endure Touch of celestial temper.
And the more I see Pleasures about me, so much more I feel Torment within me.
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.
Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe;
when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.