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Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Rooms
Teach
Light
Embers
Counterfeit
Glowing
Gloom
Room
More quotes by John Milton
Few sometimes may know, when thousands err.
John Milton
His sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.
John Milton
Confidence imparts a wonderful inspiration to the possessor.
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Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul And lap it in Elysium.
John Milton
Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation.
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The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another country, as he said, Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon.
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Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me?
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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.
John Milton
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!
John Milton
Oh, shame to men! devil with devil damn'd Firm concord holds, men only disagree Of creatures rational.
John Milton
Death ready stands to interpose his dart.
John Milton
Witness this new-made world, another Heav'n From Heaven Gate not farr, founded in view On the clear Hyaline, the Glassie Sea Of amplitude almost immense, with Starr's Numerous, and every Starr perhaps a world Of destined habitation.
John Milton
Zeal and duty are not slow But on occasion's forelock watchful wait.
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No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.
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Not to know me argues yourselves unknown.
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Spirits when they please Can either sex assume, or both.
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Necessity and chance Approach not me, and what I will is fate.
John Milton
Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled.
John Milton
The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
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A poet soaring in the high reason of his fancies, with his garland and singing robes about him.
John Milton