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Prudence is the virtue by which we discern what is proper to do under various circumstances in time and place.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Discern
Prudence
Proper
Various
Circumstances
Virtue
Place
Time
More quotes by John Milton
My latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever new delight!
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Midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.
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So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,Farewell remorse: all good to me is lostEvil,be thou my good.
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Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
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... then there was war in heaven. But it was not angels. It was that small golden zeppelin, like a long oval world, high up. It seemed as if the cosmic order were gone, as if there had come a new order, a new heavens above us: and as if the world in anger were trying to revoke it.
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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.
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For books are as meats and viands are some of good, some of evil sub-stance.
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Though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously by licensing and prohibiting to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter.
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Necessity and chance Approach not me, and what I will is fate.
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Blind mouths! That scarce themselves know how to hold A sheep-hook.
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Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.
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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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Come knit hands, and beat the ground in a light fantastic round
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There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.
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But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloisters pale, And love the high embowed roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight Casting a dim religious light.
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Solitude sometimes is best society.
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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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With a smile that glow'd Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue.
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Death ready stands to interpose his dart.
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A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.
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