"My sentence is for open War; Of Wiles, More unexpert, I boast not: them let those Contrive who need, or when they need, not now. For while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in Arms, and longing wait The Signal to ascend, sit ling'ring here, Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling place Accept this dark opprobrious Den of shame, The Prison of his Tyranny who Reigns By our delay? no, let us rather choose, Arm'd with Hell flames and fury all at once O'er Heaven's high Tow'rs to force resistless way, Turning our Tortures into horrid Arms Against the Torturer."
Lines 51-64, Paradise Lost, John Milton
February 14th, 2022
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