The Wrong Kind

Others apart sat on a Hill retir'd,
In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high
Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate,
Fixt Fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute,
And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost.
Of good and evil much they argu'd then,
Of happiness and final misery,
Passion and Apathy, and glory and shame
Vain wisdom all, and false Philosophy:
Yet with a pleasing sorcery could charm
Pain for a while or anguish, and excite
Fallacious hope, or arm th'obdured breast
With stubborn patience as with triple steel.

--Paradise Lost, Book II

Too often my hope and patience are of the the wrong kind. Better to despair or rage with impatience than have fallacious hope or triple-steeled patience. Extremes must haunt me though, for to quote Jack London: I would rather be ashes than dust.