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Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Mill
Gaza
Mills
Slaves
Slave
Asks
Find
Great
Deliverer
More quotes by John Milton
Believe and be confirmed.
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To live a life half dead, a living death.
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These evils I deserve, and more . . . . Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon, Whose ear is ever open, and his eye Gracious to re-admit the suppliant.
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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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Time, though in Eternity, applied To motion, measures all things durable By present, past, and future.
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Spirits that live throughout, Vital in every part, not as frail man, In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins, Cannot but by annihilating die.
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They are the troublers, they are the dividers of unity, who neglect and don't permit others to unite those dissevered pieces which are yet wanting to the body of Truth.
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Yet I argue not Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope but still bear up and steer Right onward.
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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.
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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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Nor love thy life, nor hate but what thou livest, Live well how long, or short, permit to Heaven.
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Nor jealousy Was understood, the injur'd lover's hell.
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Suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.
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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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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.
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And, when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
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Earth felt the wound and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.
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Implied Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd,- Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.
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Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades High over-arch'd imbower.
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O visions ill foreseen! Better had I Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne My part of evil only.
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