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Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape Crush'd the sweet poison of misused wine.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Poison
Wine
Sweet
Bacchus
Firsts
Grape
First
Misused
Grapes
Purple
Crush
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The superior man acquaints himself with many sayings of antiquity and many deeds of the past, in order to strengthen his character thereby.
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Be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee and thy being.
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Perplexed and troubled at his bad success The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply, Discovered in his fraud, thrown from his hope.
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A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses
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Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.
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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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Most men admire Virtue who follow not her lore.
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Back to thy punishment, False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings.
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But God himself is truth in propagating which, as men display a greater integrity and zeal, they approach nearer to the similitude of God, and possess a greater portion of his love.
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I must not quarrel with the will Of highest dispensation, which herein, Haply had ends above my reach to know.
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Danger will wink on opportunity.
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Who aspires must down as low As high he soar'd.
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Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.
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Courage never to submit of yield.
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If weakness may excuse, What murderer, what traitor, parricide, Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it? All wickedness is weakness that plea, therefore, With God or man will gain thee no remission.
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Myself, and all the Angelic Host, that stand in the sight of God enthroned, our happy state hold, as you yours, while our obedience hold. On other surety none: freely we serve, because we freely love.
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Yet much remains To conquer still peace hath her victories No less renowned then war, new foes arise Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains: Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves whose gospel is their maw.
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Blind mouths! That scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook.
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Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me?
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Suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.
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