“Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,Said then the lost Archangel, this the seatThat we must change for heav'n, this mournful gloomFor that celestial light? Be it so since he Who now is sovereign can dispose and bid What shall be right. Farthest from him is best Whom reason hath equaled force hath made supreme Above his equals. Farewell happy fieldsWhere joy forever dwells. Hail horrors HailInfernal world, and thou profoundest hellReceive thy new possessor, one who bringsA mind not to be changed by place or timeThe mind is its own place and in itselfCan make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.What matter where if I be still the sameAnd what I should be--All but less than heWhom thunder hath made greater. Here at leastWe shall be free. Th' Almighty hath not builtHere for his envy will not drive us hence.Here we may reign supreme, and in my choiceTo reign is worth ambition, though in hell.Better to reign in hell than serve in Heav'n.But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,Th'associates and co-partners of our lossLie thus astonished on th' oblivious pool.And call them not to share with us their partIn this unhappy mansion? Or, once more,With rallying arms, to try what may be yetRegained in heav'n or what more lost in hell!”

“Here at lastWe shall be free;the Almighty hath not builtHere for his envy, will not drive us hence:Here we may reign secure, and in my choiceTo reign is worth ambition though in Hell:Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven.”

“Infernal world, and thou profoundest HellReceive thy new Possessor: One who bringsA mind not to be chang'd by Place or Time.The mind is its own place, and in it selfCan make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.”

“A mind not to be changed by place or time.The mind is its own place, and in itselfCan make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.”

“Ah, where in the world have there been greater follies than with the pitiful? And what in the world hath caused more suffering than the follies of the pitiful?Woe unto all loving ones who have not an elevation which is above their pity!Thus spake the devil unto me, once on a time: "Even God hath his hell: it is his love for man." And lately, did I hear him say these words: "God is dead: of his pity for man hath God died.”

“Heav'n hath no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd,Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.”