I will put Chaos into fourteen lines and keep him there; and let him thence escape if he be lucky; let him twist and ape flood, fire, and demon — his adroit designs will strain to nothing in the strict confines of this sweet Order, where, in pious rape, I hold his essence and amorphous shape, till he with Order mingles and combines. Past are the hours, the years, of our duress, his arrogance, our awful servitude: I have him. He is nothing more nor less than something simple not yet understood; I shall not even force him to confess; or answer. I will only make him good.
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This quote was added November 29, 2007.