Ah! It Is Well For The Unfortunate

My Spirit Will Sleep In Peace; Or If It Thinks, It Will Not Surely Think Thus. Farewell.

Solitude Becomes A Sort Of Tangible Enemy, The More Dangerous, Because It Dwells Within The Citadel Itself.

Sorrow Only Increased With Knowledge.

Her Countenance Was All Expression; Her Eyes Were Not Dark But Impenetrably Deep; You Seemed To Discover Space After Space In Their Intellectual Glance.

I Beheld The Wretch-the Miserable Monster Whom I Had Created.