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The redundant locks, robustious to no purpose, clustering down--vast monument of strength.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Clustering
Redundant
Monument
Locks
Vast
Strength
Hair
Purpose
More quotes by John Milton
So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease Gathered, not harshly plucked, for death mature: This is old age but then thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change To withered weak and grey.
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A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, And pavement stars,--as stars to thee appear Seen in the galaxy, that milky way Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars.
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And now without redemption all mankind Must have been lost, adjudged to death and hell By doom severe.
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Sport, that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come and trip it as ye go, On the light fantastic toe.
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Heav'nly love shall outdoo Hellish hate
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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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Angels contented with their face in heaven, Seek not the praise of men.
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What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Of Attic taste?
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Death ready stands to interpose his dart.
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Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded, But must be current, and the good thereof Consists in mutual and partaken bliss.
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My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.
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Boast not of what thou would'st have done, but do.
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Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names.
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And fast by, hanging in a golden chain, This pendent world, in bigness as a star Of smallest magnitude, close by the moon.
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Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed.
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Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, in every gesture dignity and love.
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From haunted spring and dale Edg'd with poplar pale The parting genius is with sighing sent.
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What is strength without a double share of wisdom?
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O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.
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First Moloch, horrid king, besmirched in blood, Of Human sacrifice, and parent's tears, Though, for the noise of drums and timbrels loud, Their childrens' cries unheard, that passed through fire, To his grim idol.
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