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The cut worm forgives the plow.
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How sweet I roamed from field to field, And tasted all the summer's pride, Till I the prince of love beheld, Who in the sunny beams did glide!
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Thus men forgot that all deities reside in the human breast.
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Forgive what you do not approve & love me for this energetic exertion of my talent.
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To Chloe's breast young Cupid slily stole, But he crept in at Myra's pocket-hole.
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Embraces are comminglings from the head even to the feet, And not a pompous high priest entering by a secret place.
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You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.
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Innocence dwells with Wisdom, but never with ignorance.
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The fool who persists in his folly will become wise.
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As I was walking among the fires of Hell, delighted with the enjoyments of Genius; which to Angels look like torment and insanity, I collected some of their Proverbs.
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When nations grow old the Arts grow cold And commerce settles on every tree.
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The cistern contains: The fountain overflows.
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England! awake! awake! awake! Jerusalem thy sister calls! Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death And close her from thy ancient walls?
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Since the French Revolution Englishmen are all intermeasurable one by another, certainly a happy state of agreement to which I forone do not agree.
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This life's dim windows of the soul Distorts the heavens from pole to pole And leads you to believe a lie When you see with, not through, the eye.
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I am more famed in Heaven for my works than I could well conceive. In my brain are studies & chambers filled with books & pictures of old, which I wrote and painted in ages of Eternity before my mortal life; and whose works are the delight & study of Archangels. Why, then, should I be anxious about the riches or fame of mortality?
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The soul of sweet delight, can never be defiled.
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It is not because angels are holier than men or devils that makes them angels, but because they do not expect holiness from one another, but from God only.
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I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.
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Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.
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The foundation of empire is art and science. Remove them or degrade them, and the empire is no more. Empire follows art and not vice versa as Englishmen suppose.
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Every harlot was a virgin once.
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To the eyes of a miser a guinea is more beautiful than the sun, and a bag worn with the use of money has more beautiful proportions than a vine filled with grapes.
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I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door; So I turn'd to the Garden of Love, That so many sweet flowers bore. And I saw it was filled with graves, And tomb-stones where flowers should be: And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds, And binding with briars, my joys & desires.