Many miles away there's a shadow on the door of a cottage on the Shore of a dark Scottish lake.
Literature is a great staff, but a very sorry crutch.
I will tear this folly from my heart, though every fibre bleed as I rend it away!
For Love will still be lord of all.
Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last and final awakening.
In prosperous times I have sometimes felt my fancy and powers of language flag, but adversity is to me at least a tonic and bracer.