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Hell has no benefits, only torture.

John Milton

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John Milton
Age: 65 †
Born: 1608
Born: December 9
Died: 1674
Died: November 8
Poet
Politician
Writer
Benefits
Hell
Torture

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Unless an age too late, or cold Climate, or years, damp my intended wing.
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In vain doth valour bleed, While Avarice and Rapine share the land.
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If all the world Should in a pet of temp'rance, feed on pulse, Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze, Th' All-giver would be unthank'd, would be unprais'd.
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And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience to attain To something like prophetic strain.
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It is not good that man should be alone. ... Hitherto all things that have been named, were approved of God to be very good: loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named not good: whether it be a thing, or the want of something, I labour not.
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. . . for beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds Led captive. Cease to admire, and all her plumes Fall flat and shrink into a trivial toy, At every sudden slighting quite abash'd.
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Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades High over-arch'd imbower.
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Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.
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Ink is the blood of the printing-press.
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Where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes, That comes to all.
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The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another country, as he said, Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon.
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Heaven, the seat of bliss, Brooks not the works of violence and war.
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Let us seek Death, or he not found, supply With our own hands his office on ourselves Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That show no end but death, and have the power, Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, Destruction with destruction to destroy.
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So he with difficulty and labour hard Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour he.
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With thee conversing I forget all time.
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Sweet intercourse of looks and smiles for smiles from reason flow.
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Heaven Is as the Book of God before thee set, Wherein to read His wondrous works.
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Who can enjoy alone? Or all enjoying what contentment find?
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The strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.
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God, who oft descends to visit men Unseen, and through their habitations walks To mark their doings.
John Milton