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Implied Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd,- Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Modest
Yielded
Gentle
Subjection
Pride
Sway
Sweet
Implied
Best
Reluctant
Submission
Delay
Modesty
Amorous
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They who have put out the people's eyes reproach them of their blindness.
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What reinforcement we may gain from hope If not, what resolution from despair.
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Seas wept from our deep sorrows.
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Virtue hath no tongue to check vice's pride.
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First Moloch, horrid king, besmirched in blood, Of Human sacrifice, and parent's tears, Though, for the noise of drums and timbrels loud, Their childrens' cries unheard, that passed through fire, To his grim idol.
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Believe and be confirmed.
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Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.
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For Solomon, he lived at ease, and full Of honour, wealth, high fare, aimed not beyond Higher design than to enjoy his state.
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At His birth a star, unseen before in heaven, proclaims Him come.
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Books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them....I know they are as lively and as vigorously productive as those fabulous dragon's teeth and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men.
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Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, in every gesture dignity and love.
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When language in common use in any country becomes irregular and depraved, it is followed by their ruin and degradation. For what do terms used without skill or meaning, which are at once corrupt and misapplied, denote but a people listless, supine, and ripe for servitude?
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But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began.
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Necessity and chance Approach not me, and what I will is fate.
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Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child!
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Yet hold it more humane, more heav'nly, first, By winning words to conquer willing hearts, And make persuasion do the work of fear.
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Midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.
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These eyes, tho' clear To outward view of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot, Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, not bate a jot Of heart or hope but still bear up and steer Right onward.
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So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.
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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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