What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Of Attic taste?
None can love freedom heartily, but good men; the rest love not freedom, but license.
So dear I love him, that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life.
Few sometimes may know, when thousands err.
A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.
To be blind is not miserable; not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable.