John Quotes

Immediate are the acts of God, more swift than time or motion.

Execute their airy purposes.

Cyriack, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench Of British Themis, with no mean applause Pronounced and in his volumes taught our Laws, Which others at their Bar so often wrench

But now my task is smoothly done, I can fly, or I can run Quickly to the green earth's end, Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend, And from thence can soar as soon To the corners of the Moon.

Time, though in Eternity, applied To motion, measures all things durable By present, past, and future.

By night the Glass Of Galileo ... observes Imagin'd Land and Regions in the Moon.

To know that which lies before us in daily life is the prime wisdom.

There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.

Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones.

If there be any difference among professed believers as to the sense of Scripture, it is their duty to tolerate such difference in each other, until God shall have revealed the truth to all.

Boast not of what thou would'st have done, but do.

Hope allows us to bid farewell to fear.

Virtue hath no tongue to check vice's pride.

Who knows not Circe, The daughter of the Sun , whose charmed cup Whoever tasted, lost his upright shape, And downward fell into a groveling swine?

So little knows Any, but God alone, but perverts best things To worst abuse, or to their meanest use.

Temper justice with mercy.

Her virtue and the conscience of her worth, That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won.

So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair that ever since in love's embraces met -- Adam, the goodliest man of men since born his sons; the fairest of her daughters Eve.

Arms on armour clashing bray'd Horrible discord, and the madding wheels Of brazen chariots rag'd: dire was the noise Of conflict.

His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less than archangel ruin'd, and th' excess Of glory obscur'd.

It were a journey like the path to heaven, To help you find them.

This manner of writing wherein knowing myself inferior to myself? I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.

Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.

What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Of Attic taste?

For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with superfluous burden loads the day, And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.

But oh! as to embrace me she inclin'd, I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.

Seasoned life of man preserved and stored up in books.

Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell, . . . . And boldly venture to whatever place Farthest from pain?

When the new light which we beg for shines in upon us, there be [those] who envy and oppose, if it come not first in at their casements.

The great Emathian conqueror bid spare The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground.

Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.

Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread.

Her silent course advance With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps On her soft axle.

Behold now this vast city [London]; a city of refuge, the mansion-house of liberty, encompassed and surrounded with His protection.

Be strong, live happy and love, but first of all Him whom to love is to obey, and keep His great command!

Hail universal Lord, be bounteous still To give us only good; and if the night Have gathered aught of evil or concealed, Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.

Blind mouths! That scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook.

For to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.

This is servitude, To serve th'unwise, or him who hath rebelled Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee, Thyself not free, but to thyself enthralled.

With diadem and sceptre high advanced, The lower still I fall; only supreme In misery; such joy ambition finds.

These evils I deserve, and more . . . . Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon, Whose ear is ever open, and his eye Gracious to re-admit the suppliant.

Darkness now rose, as daylight sunk, and brought in low'ring Night her shadowy offspring.

But oh the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return!

My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth.

The pious and just honoring of ourselves may be thought the fountainhead from whence every laudable and worthy enterprise issues forth.

Heaven, the seat of bliss, Brooks not the works of violence and war.

Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold that shall befall Him or his children.

And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.

So on this windy sea of land, the Fiend Walked up and down alone bent on his prey.

God has set labor and rest, as day and night to men successive.