He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost.

All dark and comfortless.

LEAR: ...yet you see how this world goes.
GLOS.: I see it feelingly.

And when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The Thing became a trumpet; whence he blew Soul-animating strains--alas! too few.

We are blind and live our blind lives out in blindness.

Hate and mistrust are the children of blindness.