I Am Malicious Because I Am Miserable

What Is There So Fearful As The Expectation Of Evil Tidings Delayed? ... Misery Is A More Welcome Visitant When She Comes In Her Darkest Guise And Wraps Us In Perpetual Black, For Then The Heart No Longer Sickens With Disappointed Hope.

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

Did You Not Call This A Glorious Expedition? And Wherefore Was It Glorious? Not Because The Way Was Smooth And Placid As A Southern Sea, But Because It Was Full Of Dangers And Terror, Because At Every New Incident Your Fortitude Was To Be Called Forth And Your Courage Exhibited, Because Danger And Death Surrounded It, And These You Were Brave To Overcome. For This Was It A Glorious , For This Was It An Honorable Undertaking

Why Did I Not Die? More Miserable Than Man Ever Was Before, Why Did I Not Sink Into Forgetfulness And Rest? Death Snatches Away Many Blooming Children, The Only Hopes Of Their Doting Parents: How Many Brides And Youthful Lovers Have Been One Day In The Bloom Of Health And Hope, And The Next A Prey For Worms And The Decay Of The Tomb! Of What Materials Was I Made, That I Could Thus Resist So Many Shocks, Which, Like The Turning Of The Wheel, Continually Renewed The Torture? But I Was Doomed To Live.

Thus Strangely Are Our Souls Constructed, And By Slight Ligaments Are We Bound To Prosperity And Ruin.