“Paradise Lost”, Milton— “…the superior fiend / Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield / Ethereal temper; massy, large and round, / Behind him cast; the broad circumference / Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb / Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views / At evening from the top of Fesole…” In relation to the demon, humans are insignifcant bugs, attempting to observe towards something larger than life.