To withdraw myself from myself has ever been my sole, my entire, my sincere motive in scribbling at all.
Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
Man marks the earth with ruin - his control stops with the shore.
Love rules the camp, the court, the grove - for love is Heaven, and Heaven is love.
So do the dark in soul expire, Or live like scorpion girt by fire; So writhes the mind remorse hath riven, Unfit for earth, undoom'd for heaven, Darkness above, despair beneath, Around it flame, within it death.
If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad.