What moments of despair that life would ever be made precious to me by the consciousness that I lived to some good purpose! It was that sort of despair that sucked away the sap of half the hours which might have been filled by energetic youthful activity: and the same demon tries to get hold of me again whenever an old work is dismissed and a new one is being meditated.
George EliotI have nothing to tell except travellers' stories, which are always tiresome, like the description of a play which was very exciting to those who saw it.
George Eliot