A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace, flamed; yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without end.

What am I pondering, you ask? So help me God, immortality.

Ornate rhetorick taught out of the rule of Plato.... To which poetry would be made subsequent, or indeed rather precedent, as being less suttle and fine, but more simple, sensuous, and passionate.

Where shame is, there is also fear.

Suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.

For so I created them free and free they must remain.

Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn.