Stanley Fish - Milton

Milton

Fish started his career as a medievalist. His first book, published by Yale University Press in 1965, was on the late-medieval/early-Renaissance poet John Skelton. Fish reveals in his partly biographical essay, "Milton, Thou Shouldst be Living at this Hour" (published in There's No Such Thing as Free Speech . . . And It's a Good Thing, Too), that he came to Milton by accident. In 1963 — the same year that Fish started as an assistant professor at the University of California, Berkeley — the resident Miltonist, Constantinos A. Patrides, received a grant. The chair of the department asked Fish to teach the Milton course, not with standing the fact that the young professor "had never — either as an undergraduate or in graduate school — taken a Milton course" (269). The eventual result of that course was Surprised by Sin: The Reader in Paradise Lost (1967; rpt. 1997). Fish's 2001 book, How Milton Works, reflects five decades' worth of his scholarship on Milton.

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Famous quotes containing the word milton:

    Thus the orb he roamed
    With narrow search, and with inspection deep
    Considered every creature, which of all
    Most opportune might serve his wiles, and found
    The serpent subtlest beast of all the field.
    —John Milton (1608–1674)

    He weren’t no saint—but at Jedgment
    I’d run my chance with Jim,
    ‘Longside of some pious gentlemen
    That wouldn’t shook hands with him.
    He seen his duty, a dead-sure thing,—
    And went for it, thar an’ then:
    And Christ ain’t a-goin’ to be too hard
    On a man that died for me.
    —John Milton Hay (1838–1905)

    Come pensive Nun, devout and pure,
    Sober, steadfast, and demure,
    All in a robe of darkest grain,
    Flowing with majestic train,
    And sable stole of cypress lawn,
    Over thy decent shoulders drawn.
    Come, but keep thy wonted state,
    With even step and musing gait,
    And looks commercing with the skies,
    Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes;
    There held in holy passion still,
    Forget thyself to marble,
    —John Milton (1608–1674)