Brendan’s Reviews > Paradise Lost > Status Update
Brendan
is on page 201 of 590
“But what will not ambition and revenge
Descend to? Who aspires must down as low
As high he soared, obnoxious first or last
To basest things. Revenge at first though sweet
Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.”
— 16 hours, 52 min ago
Descend to? Who aspires must down as low
As high he soared, obnoxious first or last
To basest things. Revenge at first though sweet
Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.”
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Brendan’s Previous Updates
Brendan
is on page 80 of 590
Satan laments his fall:
“Which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is Hell, myself am Hell,
And in the lowest deep a lower deep
Still threat’ning to devour me opens wide,
To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav’n.
O then at last relent! Is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left?
None left but by submission and that word
Disdain forbids me and my dread of shame
— Mar 07, 2026 10:59AM
“Which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is Hell, myself am Hell,
And in the lowest deep a lower deep
Still threat’ning to devour me opens wide,
To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav’n.
O then at last relent! Is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left?
None left but by submission and that word
Disdain forbids me and my dread of shame
Brendan
is on page 30 of 590
“Thus repulsed our final hope
Is flat despair: we must exasperate
Th’ almighty victor to spend all His rage.
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 lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night
Devoid of sense or motion?”
— Feb 21, 2026 12:14PM
Is flat despair: we must exasperate
Th’ almighty victor to spend all His rage.
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 lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night
Devoid of sense or motion?”
