“Me miserable! 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 threatening to devour me opens wide, to which the hell I suffer seems a heaven”. The question, then, fiend Satan, is wither goest thou? Quo vadis, king of the infernal depth? Directionless and vanquished, fallen and condemned, what home remains to you, arch apostate, that is not also hell? As you admit, yours is a mind “not to be changed by place or time”. What matter where, then, if thou be still the same?

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