John Milton

These eyes, tho' clear
To outward view of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing read more

These eyes, tho' clear
To outward view of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot,
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heaven's hand or will, not bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward.

. . . and now expecting
Each hour their great adventurer, from the search
Of foreign words.

. . . and now expecting
Each hour their great adventurer, from the search
Of foreign words.

What does not destroy me, makes me strong.

What does not destroy me, makes me strong.

Of herbs, and other country messes,
Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses.

Of herbs, and other country messes,
Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses.

Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties.

Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties.