“And that must end us, that must be our cure:To be no more. Sad cure! For who would lose,Though full of pain, this intellectual being,Those thoughts that wander through eternity,To perish, rather, swallowed up and lostIn the wide womb of uncreated nightDevoid of sense and motion?”

“Our cure, to be no more; sad cure! ”

“We boast our light; but if we look not wisely on the run itself, it smites us into darkness. Who can discern those planets that are oft combust, and those starts of brightest magnitude that rise and set with the sun, until the opposite motion of their orbs bring them to such a place in the firmament where they may be seen evening or morning? The light which we have gained was given us, not to be ever staring on, but by it to discover onward things more remote from our knowledge.”

“In discourse more sweet(For Eloquence the Soul, Song charms the Sense)Others apart sat on a hill retired,In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned highOf Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate-Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute,And found no end, in wandering mazes lost.Of good and evil much they argued then,Of happiness and final misery,Passion and apathy, and glory and shame:Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy!-Yet, with a pleasing sorcery, could charmPain for a while or anguish, and exciteFallacious hope, or arm th' obdurate breastWith stubborn patience as with triple steel.”

“how wearisomEternity so spent in worship paidTo whom we hate. Let us not then pursueBy force impossible, by leave obtain'd Unacceptable, though in Heav'n, our stateOf splendid vassalage, but rather seekOur own good from our selves, and from our ownLive to our selves, though in this vast recess,Free, and to none accountable, preferring Hard liberty before the easie yokeOf servile Pomp”

“Into this wild Abyss/ The womb of Nature, and perhaps her grave--/ Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire,/ But all these in their pregnant causes mixed/ Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight,/ Unless the Almighty Maker them ordain/ His dark materials to create more worlds,--/ Into this wild Abyss the wary Fiend/ Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while,/ Pondering his voyage; for no narrow frith/ He had to cross. ”

“The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith makes up the highest perfection.”