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Meanwhile the Adversary of God and man, Satan with thoughts inflamed of highest design, Puts on swift wings, and towards the gates of hell Explores his solitary flight.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
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Towards
Swift
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Adversaries
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Solitary
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Hell
Satan
Inflamed
Men
Puts
Explores
Flight
Adversary
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Meanwhile
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The love-lorn nightingale nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well.
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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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What is strength without a double share of wisdom?
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He that has light within his own clear breast May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day: But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the mid-day sun Himself his own dungeon.
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I call a complete and generous education that which fits a man to perform justly, skillfully, and magnanimously all the offices, both private and public, of peace and war.
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The earth, though in comparison of heaven so small, nor glistering, may of solid good contain more plenty than the sun, that barren shines.
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Virtue may be assailed, but never hurt, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthralled.
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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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To know that which lies before us in daily life is the prime wisdom.
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A limbo large and broad, since call'd The Paradise of Fools to few unknown.
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United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprise.
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In argument with men a woman ever Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause.
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Necessity and chance Approach not me, and what I will is fate.
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Sweet bird that shunn'st the nose of folly, Most musical, most melancholy! Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among, I woo, to hear thy even-song.
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I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known rules of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs.
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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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The never-ending flight Of future days.
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Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
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And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.
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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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