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I must not quarrel with the will Of highest dispensation, which herein, Haply had ends above my reach to know.
John Milton
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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Highest
Haply
Ends
Dispensation
Must
Herein
Quarrel
Quarrels
Providence
Reach
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Dim eclipse, disastrous twilight.
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Each tree Laden with fairest fruit, that hung to th' eye Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite To pluck and eat.
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Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democratie, Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.
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Where shame is, there is also fear.
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How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
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The strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.
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And to thy husband's will Thine shall submit he over thee shall rule.
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To know that which lies before us in daily life is the prime wisdom.
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The starry cope Of heaven.
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Such sober certainty of waking bliss.
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My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.
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Satan so call him now, his former name Is heard no more in heaven.
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Therefore God's universal law Gave to the man despotic power Over his female in due awe, Not from that right to part an hour, Smile she or lour.
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Back to thy punishment, False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings.
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But pain is perfect misery, the worst Of evils, and excessive, overturns All patience.
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