A Quote by John Milton

Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. — © John Milton
Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
Giving thanks is that: making the canyon of pain into a megaphone to proclaim the ultimate goodness of God when Satan and all the world would sneer at us to recant.
What do you believe? I believe that the last and the first suffer equally. Pari passu. Equally? It is not alone in the dark of death that all souls are one soul. Of what would you repent? Nothing. Nothing? One thing. I spoke with bitterness about my life and I said that I would take my own part against the slander of oblivion and against the monstrous facelessness of it and that I would stand a stone in the very void where all would read my name. Of that vanity I recant all.
Words cannot ease the pain you are feeling right now But just wanted to let you know that we are thinking about you And praying for your pain to ease And for you to find sunshine when the dark clouds have passed.
For the first time since her return, she felt pain, a violent pain, but it made her feel alive, because it was worth feeling.
I've made millions of dollars with the body I have, so where's the pain in that? If I was in pain, I would have dieted. The pain is not there - the pain is someone printing a picture of me and saying those horrible things.
All things are void. So how possibly could there be any obscurations since everything is void, when you're void itself? There's only the void. In the void, there's only shining, perfect clear light of reality.
The house of a childless person is a void, all directions are void to one who has no relatives, the heart of a fool is also void, but to a poverty stricken man all is void.
At times like this There's not a lot that words can do To help ease your pain and sense of loss And though it may be hard to believe right now Know that the pain will ease with time And you will look back at the memories of your dear one And smile and remember a life well lived and loved.
The pain, or the memory of pain, that here was literally sucked away by something nameless until only a void was left. The knowledge that this question was possible: pain that turns finally into emptiness. The knowledge that the same equation applied to everything, more or less.
The Void is a living void ... pulsating in endless rhythms of creation and destruction. The great Void does not exist as Void, it embraces all Being/non-Being
In a world where vows are worthless.Where making a pledge means nothing. Where promises are made to be broken, it would be nice to see words come back into power.
O woman! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!
It is easy now to break the vows. It is even easier to part your ways if vows haven't been taken.
New vows to plight, and plighted vows to break.
For pain is perhaps but a violent pleasure? Who could determine the point where pleasure becomes pain, where pain is still a pleasure? Is not the utmost brightness of the ideal world soothing to us, while the lightest shadows of the physical world annoy?
Ease, a neutral state between pain and pleasure ... if it is not rising into pleasure will be falling towards pain.
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