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Virtue could see to do what Virtue would by her own radiant light, though sun and moon where in the flat sea sunk.
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Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, in every gesture dignity and love.
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And in their motions harmony divine So smoothes her charming tones, that God's own ear Listens delighted.
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Midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.
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For what can war, but endless war, still breed?
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Evil, be thou my good.
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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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Goodness thinks no ill Where no ill seems.
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Lords are lordliest in their wine.
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He that studieth revenge keepeth his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well.
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Litigious terms, fat contentions, and flowing fees.
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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?
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The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.
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What reinforcement we may gain from hope; If not, what resolution from despair.
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By labor and intent study (which I take to be my portion in this life), joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to after-times, as they should not willingly let it die.
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Mirth, admit me of thy crew,To live with her, and live with thee,In unreprovèd pleasures free.
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Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,And Laughter, holding both his sides.Come, and trip it, as you go.On the light fantastic toe.
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Solitude is sometimes best society.
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It was the winter wildWhile the Heav'n-born childAll meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies.
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Anger and just rebuke, and judgment given, That brought into this world a world of woe, Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery, Death's harbinger.
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Books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them....I know they are as lively and as vigorously productive as those fabulous dragon's teeth and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men.
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Freely we serve, Because we freely love, as in our will To love or not; in this we stand or fall.
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The great creator from his work returned Magnificent, his six days' work, a world.
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To be blind is not miserable; not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable.