I Beheld The Wretch-the Miserable

Precious Attribute Of Woe-worn Humanity! That Can Snatch Ecstatic Emotion, Even From Under The Very Share And Harrow, That Ruthlessly Ploughs Up And Lays Waste Every Hope.

When Falsehood Can Look So Like The Truth, Who Can Assure Themselves Of Certain Happiness?

He Is Dead Who Called Me Into Being, And When I Shall Be No More The Very Remembrance Of Us Both Will Speedily Vanish.

The Air Of Fashion, Which Many Young People Are So Eager To Attain, Always Strikes Me Like The Studied Attitudes Of Some Modern Prints, Copied With Tasteless Servility After The Antigue; The Soul Is Left Out, And None Of The Parts Are Tied Together By What May Properly Be Termed Character.

From My Birth I Have Aspired Like The Eagle - But Unlike The Eagle, My Wings Have Failed. . . . Congratulate Me Then That I Have Found A Fitting Scope For My Powers.