How dreadful it is, to emerge from the oblivion of slumber, and to receive as a good morrow the mute wailing of one's own hapless heart - to return from the land of deceptive dreams to the heavy knowledge of unchanged disaster!

Polluted by crimes, and torn by the bitterest remorse, where can I find rest but in death?

Man," I cried, "how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom!

None but those who have experienced them can conceive of the enticements of science.

How dreadful it is, to emerge from the oblivion of slumber, and to receive as a good morrow the mute wailing of one's own hapless heart - to return from the land of deceptive dreams to the heavy knowledge of unchanged disaster!

I saw and heard of none like me. Was I then a monster, a blot upon the earth, from which all men fled, and whom all men disowned?

I cherished hope, it is true, but it vanished when my person reflected . . .