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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
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With eyes Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd. Imparadised in one another's arms. With thee conversing I forget all time. And feel that I am happier than I know.
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For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.
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There is no Christian duty that is not to be seasoned and set off with cheerishness, which in a thousand outward and intermitting crosses may yet be done well, as in this vale of tears.
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What reinforcement we may gain from hope If not, what resolution from despair.
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From haunted spring and dale Edg'd with poplar pale The parting genius is with sighing sent.
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Virtue hath no tongue to check vice's pride.
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To many a youth and many a maid, dancing in the chequer'd shade.
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Those whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
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The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks, Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.
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Evil, be thou my good.
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Such joy ambition finds.
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Anarchy is the sure consequence of tyranny for no power that is not limited by laws can ever be protected by them.
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Reason also is choice.
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Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown in courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, where most may wonder at the workmanship.
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And to thy husband's will Thine shall submit he over thee shall rule.
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And these gems of Heav'n, her starry train.
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Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame,-nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.
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The helmed Cherubim, And sworded Seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd.
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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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