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Let none admire that riches grow in hell that soil may best deserve the precious bane.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
May
Soil
Best
Admire
None
Deserve
Grow
Wealth
Bane
Hell
Riches
Grows
Precious
More quotes by John Milton
To live a life half dead, a living death.
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Confidence imparts a wonderful inspiration to the possessor.
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A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace, flamed yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all but torture without end.
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Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.
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Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame,-nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
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... then there was war in heaven. But it was not angels. It was that small golden zeppelin, like a long oval world, high up. It seemed as if the cosmic order were gone, as if there had come a new order, a new heavens above us: and as if the world in anger were trying to revoke it.
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The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
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Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation.
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Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view.
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What if Earth be but the shadow of Heaven and things therein - each other like, more than on Earth is thought?
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Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.
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But that from us aught should ascend to Heav'n So prevalent as to concern the mind Of God, high-bless'd, or to incline His will, Hard to belief may seem yet this will prayer.
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God, who oft descends to visit men Unseen, and through their habitations walks To mark their doings.
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To overcome in battle, and subdue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite Man-slaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory.
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Joking decides great things, Stronger and better oft than earnest can.
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But infinite in pardon is my Judge.
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Temper justice with mercy.
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So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
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His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast Of some great ammiral were but a wand, He walk'd with to support uneasy steps Over the burning marle.
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Better to reign in hell than serve in heav'n.
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