They who have put out the people's eyes reproach them of their blindness.

That practis'd falsehood under saintly shew, Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge.

He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true wayfaring Christian. I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat. Assuredly we bring not innocence into the world, we bring impurity much rather: that which purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary.

His words, like so many nimble and airy servitors, trip about him at command. Ibid.

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.

Sweet intercourse of looks and smiles; for smiles from reason flow.

Every cloud has a silver lining.