To be blind is not miserable; not to be able to bear blindness, that is miserable.
Where shame is, there is also fear.
Smiles from reason flow, To brute deny'd, and are of love the food.
What call thou solitude? Is not the earth with various living creatures, and the air replenished, and all these at thy command to come and play before thee?
That power Which erring men call Chance.
His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less than archangel ruin'd, and th' excess Of glory obscur'd.