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Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Ties
Hidden
Chains
Harmony
Soul
More quotes by John Milton
A good principle not rightly understood may prove as hurtful as a bad.
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My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth.
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Hail holy light, offspring of heav'n firstborn!
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This manner of writing wherein knowing myself inferior to myself? I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.
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Reason is also choice.
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Those whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
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Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.
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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 glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
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The spirits perverse with easy intercourse pass to and fro, to tempt or punish mortals.
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The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear So charming left his voice, that he awhile Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.
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What better can we do than prostrate fall before Him reverent, and there confess humbly our faults, and pardon beg with tears watering the ground?
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Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north - wind's breath, And stars to set but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
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And, when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
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Let us seek Death, or he not found, supply With our own hands his office on ourselves Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That show no end but death, and have the power, Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, Destruction with destruction to destroy.
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Most men admire Virtue who follow not her lore.
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Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies.
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It is Chastity, my brother. She that has that is clad in complete steel.
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His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.
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Her silent course advance With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps On her soft axle.
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