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With thee conversing I forget all time.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Conversing
Thee
Forget
Time
More quotes by John Milton
A shout that tore hell's concave, and beyond / Frightened the reign of Chaos and old Night.
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It was the winter wild, While the Heaven-born child, All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies.
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Gratitude bestows reverence.....changing forever how we experience life and the world.
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On a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder.
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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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Sport, that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come and trip it as ye go, On the light fantastic toe.
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Let us go forth and resolutely dare with sweat of brow to toil our little day.
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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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Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves.
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Such joy ambition finds.
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Good luck befriend thee, Son for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth.
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For neither man nor angel can discern hypocrisy, the only evil that walks invisible, except to God alone.
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Rhime being no necessary Adjunct or true Ornament of Poem or good Verse, in longer Works especially, but the Invention of a barbarous Age, to set off wretched matter and lame Meeter...the troublesom and modern bondage of Rimeing.
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I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.
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Socrates... Whom well inspir'd the oracle pronounc'd Wisest of men.
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Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls his watery labyrinth, which whoso drinks forgets both joy and grief.
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From morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,- A summer's day and with the setting sun Dropp'd from the Zenith like a falling star.
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Our two first parents, yet the only two Of mankind, in the happy garden placed, Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love, Uninterrupted joy, unrivalled love In blissful solitude.
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Let us no more contend, nor blame each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten each other's burden.
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Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth With such a full and unwithdrawing hand, Covering the earth with odours, fruits, flocks, Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, But all to please and sate the curious taste?
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