You can make hell out of heaven and heaven out of hell. It's all in the mind.
Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.
Suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.
And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.
Seas wept from our deep sorrows.
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.