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And if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of Him who all things can, I would not cease To weary Him with my assiduous cries.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Prayer
Hope
Change
Assiduous
Things
Incessant
Would
Cries
Weary
Cease
Cry
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It is Chastity, my brother. She that has that is clad in complete steel.
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The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
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Among the writers of all ages, some deserve fame, and have it others neither have nor deserve it some have it, not deserving it others, though deserving it, yet totally miss it, or have it not equal to their deserts.
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Socrates... Whom well inspir'd the oracle pronounc'd Wisest of men.
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No mighty trance, or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
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Let none admire that riches grow in hell that soil may best deserve the precious bane.
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So dear I love him, that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life.
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But O yet more miserable! Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave.
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For truth is strong next to the Almighty. She needs no policies or stratagems or licensings to make her victorious. These are the shifts and the defences that error uses against her power.
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Arm the obdured breast with stubborn patience as with triple steel.
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Virtue hath no tongue to check vice's pride.
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And what is faith, love, virtue unassayed Alone, without exterior help sustained?
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Tis chastity, my brother, chastity She that has that is clad in complete steel, And, like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen, May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths, Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer, Will dare to soil her virgin purity.
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