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What better can we do than prostrate fall before Him reverent, and there confess humbly our faults, and pardon beg with tears watering the ground?
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Faults
Ground
Tears
Prostrate
Fall
Watering
Better
Reverent
Humbly
Confess
Pardon
More quotes by John Milton
Unless an age too late, or cold Climate, or years, damp my intended wing.
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Here we may reign secure and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though in hell: Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
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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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All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.
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To be blind is not miserable not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable.
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The pious and just honoring of ourselves may be thought the fountainhead from whence every laudable and worthy enterprise issues forth.
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At His birth a star, unseen before in heaven, proclaims Him come.
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To overcome in battle, and subdue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite Man-slaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory.
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Ornate rhetorick taught out of the rule of Plato.... To which poetry would be made subsequent, or indeed rather precedent, as being less suttle and fine, but more simple, sensuous, and passionate.
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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.
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How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence through the empty-vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven down Of darkness till it smiled!
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If we think we regulate printing, thereby to rectify manners, we must regulate all regulations and pastimes, all that is delightful to man.
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Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be sin to know, Can it be death? And do they only stand By ignorance? Is that their happy state, The proof of their obedience and their faith? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Their ruin!
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Fairy damsels met in forest wide / By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, / Lancelot or Pelleas, or Pellenore.
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For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.
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. . . for beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds Led captive. Cease to admire, and all her plumes Fall flat and shrink into a trivial toy, At every sudden slighting quite abash'd.
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And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet.
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Fairy elves, Whose midnight revels by a forest side Or fountain some belated peasant sees, Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon Sits arbitress.
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What is dark within me, illumine.
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Perplexed and troubled at his bad success The Tempter stood, nor had what to reply, Discovered in his fraud, thrown from his hope.
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