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He who tempts, though in vain, at last asperses The tempted with dishonor foul, supposed Not incorruptible of faith, not proof Against temptation.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Faith
Corruption
Temptation
Vain
Proof
Incorruptible
Supposed
Tempts
Though
Dishonor
Lasts
Foul
Last
Tempted
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There are no songs comparable to the songs of Zion, no orations equal to those of the prophets, and no politics like those which the Scriptures teach.
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The redundant locks, robustious to no purpose, clustering down--vast monument of strength.
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My sentence is for open war.
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His sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.
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A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses
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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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Biochemically, love is just like eating large amounts of chocolate.
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O fairest of creation, last and best Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled Whatever can to sight or thought be formed, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost, Defaced, deflow'red, and now to death devote? Paradise Lost
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The helmed Cherubim, And sworded Seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd.
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But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began.
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In discourse more sweet For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense. Others apart sat on a hill retir'd, In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fix'd fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost.
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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 hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
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With a smile that glow'd Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue.
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Virtue hath no tongue to check vice's pride.
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Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end.
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That space the Evil One abstracted stood From his own evil, and for the time remained Stupidly good, of enmity disarmed, Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge .
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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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O madness to think use of strongest wines And strongest drinks our chief support of health, When God with these forbidden made choice to rear His mighty champion, strong above compare, Whose drink was only from the liquid brook.
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For books are as meats and viands are some of good, some of evil sub-stance.
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