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Ah gentle pair, ye little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Littles
Deliver
Little
Pairs
Think
Gentle
Nigh
Thinking
Delight
Vanish
Approach
Approaches
Taste
Delights
Joy
Woe
Change
Pair
More quotes by John Milton
Virtue hath no tongue to check vice's pride.
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What is dark within me, illumine.
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Death ready stands to interpose his dart.
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Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation.
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For such kind of borrowing as this, if it be not bettered by the borrowers, among good authors is accounted Plagiarè.
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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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Truth and understanding are not such wares as to be monopolized and traded in by tickets and statutes and standards. We must not think to make a staple commodity of all the knowledge in the land, to mark and license it like our broadcloth and our woolpacks.
John Milton
And as an ev'ning dragon came, Assailant on the perched roosts And nests in order rang'd Of tame villatic fowl.
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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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He who reigns within himself and rules passions, desires, and fears is more than a king.
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Wisdom's self oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, where with her best nurse Contemplation, she plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings that in the various bustle of resort were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.
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I on the other side Us'd no ambition to commend my deeds The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the doer.
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Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones.
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Now came still evening on and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad: Silence accompanied for beast and bird, They to they grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.
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The Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill.
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Sweetest Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell, By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroidered vale.
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Our country is where ever we are well off.
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What if Earth be but the shadow of Heaven and things therein - each other like, more than on Earth is thought?
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So he with difficulty and labour hard Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour he.
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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.
John Milton