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Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democratie, Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Fierce
Oratory
Famous
Repair
Ancient
Arsenal
Fame
Shook
Macedon
Whose
Throne
Resistless
Eloquence
Wielded
Greece
Thence
Thrones
Orators
More quotes by John Milton
Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium.
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Calm of mind, all passion spent.
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Let none admire that riches grow in hell that soil may best deserve the precious bane.
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Fame is the last infirmity of the human mind.
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How oft, in nations gone corrupt, And by their own devices brought down to servitude, That man chooses bondage before liberty. Bondage with ease before strenuous liberty.
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Among the writers of all ages, some deserve fame, and have it others neither have nor deserve it some have it, not deserving it others, though deserving it, yet totally miss it, or have it not equal to their deserts.
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Part of my soul I seek thee, and claim thee my other half
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Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd.
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The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to owe Forgetful what from him I still receivd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and dischargd what burden then?
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As in an organ from one blast of wind To many a row of pipes the soundboard breathes.
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Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise. That last infirmity of noble mind. To scorn delights, and live laborious days.
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Each tree Laden with fairest fruit, that hung to th' eye Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite To pluck and eat.
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Our country is where ever we are well off.
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A limbo large and broad, since call'd The Paradise of Fools to few unknown.
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Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.
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Deep vers'd in books, and shallow in himself.
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Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies.
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O visions ill foreseen! Better had I Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne My part of evil only.
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The pious and just honoring of ourselves may be thought the fountainhead from whence every laudable and worthy enterprise issues forth.
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Th' ethereal mould Incapable of stain would soon expel Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope Is flat despair.
John Milton