Familiar Quotations - novelonlinefull.com
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Book viii. Line 548.
So well to know Her own, that what she wills to do or say Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best!
Book viii. Line 600.
Those graceful acts, Those thousand decencies, that daily flow From all her words and actions.
Book viii. Line 618.
To whom the angel, with a smile that glowed Celestial rosy red (love's proper Hue)
Book ix. Line 249.
For solitude sometimes is best society, And short retirement urges sweet return.
Book x. Line 77.
Yet I shall temper so Justice with mercy, as may ill.u.s.trate most Them fully satisfied, and thee appease.
Book xii. Line 646.
The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide.
PARADISE REGAINED.
Book iv Line 240.
Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence.
Book iv. Line 267.
Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democraty, Shook the a.r.s.enal, and fulmined over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.
Book iv. Line 330.
As children gathering pebbles on the sh.o.r.e.
SAMSON AGONISTES.
Line 293.
Just are the ways of G.o.d, And justifiable to men.
Line 1350.
He's gone, and who knows how he may report Thy words, by adding fuel to the flame?
COMUS.
Line 205.
A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues, that syllable men's names On sands, and sh.o.r.es, and desert wildernesses.
Line 221.
Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
Line 244.
Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?
Line 256.
Who, as they sung, would take the prisoned soul And lap it in Elysium.
Line 381.
He that has light within his own clear breast May sit i' th' center and enjoy bright day; But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the midday sun,
Line 476.
How charming is divine philosophy!
Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose; But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectared sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.
