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Posts tagged john milton

From the top of my heart.

. . . so lively shines
In them divine resemblance . . .
John Milton, Paradise Lost

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King’s Two Bodies.

You could call this desire — to really have that awareness, to be as open as possible, all the time, to beauty and cruelty and stupid human fallibility and unexpected grace — the George Saunders Experiment.
Joel Lovell on George Saunders

I am sorry; I am not so good at
what [ is / is not ]
for you.

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The soil, the clime.

Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,
Said then the lost archangel, this the seat
That we must change for heaven, this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? Be it so, since he
Who now is sovereign can dispose and bid
What shall be right: furthest from him is best
Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
Above his equals. Farewel happy fields
Where joy forever dwells: hail horrors, hail
Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.
What matter where, if I be still the same,
And what I should be, all but less than he
Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We shall be free; the almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reign secure, and in my choice
To reign is worth ambition though in hell:
Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
The associates and copartners of our loss
Lie thus astonished on the oblivious Pool,
And call them not to share with us their part
In this unhappy mansion, or once more
With rallied arms to try what may be yet
Regained in heaven, or what more lost in hell?
John Milton, Paradise Lost

Yes, Sarah and I said, art is grotesque; it is. Art is the recognition of brokenness. It is intense or distilled humanity: brokenness, despair, and (created, imitative, creative) beauty. Who art?

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