It Was The Secrets Of

Every Where I See Bliss, From Which I Alone Am Irrevocably Excluded.

And The Violet Lay Dead While The Odour Flew On The Wings Of The Wind O'er The Waters Blue.

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

The Instructor Can Scarcely Give Sensibility Where It Is Essentially Wanting, Nor Talent To The Unpercipient Block. But He Can Cultivate And Direct The Affections Of The Pupil, Who Puts Forth, As A Parasite, Tendrils By Which To Cling, Not Knowing To What - To A Supporter Or A Destroyer.

I, A Miserable Wretch, Haunted By A Curse That Shut Up Every Avenue To Enjoyment.