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For what can war, but endless war, still breed?
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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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Till old experience do attainTo something like prophetic strain.
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And every shepherd tells his taleUnder the hawthorn in the dale.
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There is nothing that making men rich and strong but that which they carry inside of them. True wealth is of the heart, not of the hand.
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What am I pondering, you ask? So help me God, immortality.
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And storied windows richly dight,Casting a dim religious light.There let the pealing organ blow,To the full-voiced choir below,In service high, and anthems clearAs may, with sweetness, through mine earDissolve me into ecstasies,And bring all heaven before mine eyes.
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Here the great art lies, to discern in what the law is to be to restraint and punishment, and in what things persuasion only is to work.
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Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, in every gesture dignity and love.
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There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.
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Such as may make thee search the coffers round.
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And the earth self-balanced on her centre hung.
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Ladies, whose bright eyesRain influence, and judge the prize.
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Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.
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Then might ye see Cowls, hoods, and habits with their wearers tost And flutter'd into rags; then reliques, beads, Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls, The sport of winds; all these upwhirl'd aloft Fly to the rearward of the world far off Into a limbo large and broad, since called The paradise of fools.
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The very essence of truth is plainness and brightness; the darkness and crookedness is our own. The wisdom of God created understanding, fit and proportionable to truth, the object and end of it, as the eye to the thing visible. If our understanding have a film of ignorance over it, or be blear with gazing on other false glitterings, what is that to truth?
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Midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.
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Time, though in Eternity, applied To motion, measures all things durable By present, past, and future.
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Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment?
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The work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint.
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Love Virtue, she alone is free, She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime; Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.
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He that studieth revenge keepeth his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well.
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Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.
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You can make hell out of heaven and heaven out of hell. It's all in the mind.