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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
Sweet
Bacchus
Firsts
Grape
First
Misused
Grapes
Purple
Crush
Poison
Wine
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If we think we regulate printing, thereby to rectify manners, we must regulate all regulations and pastimes, all that is delightful to man.
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His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command. Ibid.
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He who reigns within himself and rules passions, desires, and fears is more than a king.
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Death is the golden key that opens the palace of eternity.
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As children gath'ring pebbles on the shore. Or if I would delight my private hours With music or with poem, where so soon As in our native language can I find That solace?
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Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd.
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These evils I deserve, and more . . . . Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon, Whose ear is ever open, and his eye Gracious to re-admit the suppliant.
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Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.
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Time is the subtle thief of youth.
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Her silent course advance With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps On her soft axle.
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O madness to think use of strongest wines And strongest drinks our chief support of health, When God with these forbidden made choice to rear His mighty champion, strong above compare, Whose drink was only from the liquid brook.
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Evil into the mind of god or man may come and go, so unapproved, and leave no spot or blame behind.
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It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark.
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