Our Faults Are Apt To

...we Are Unfashioned Creatures, But Half Made Up, If One Wiser, Better, Dearer Than Ourselves - Such A Friend Ought To Be - Do Not Lend His Aid To Perfectionate Our Weak And Faulty Natures.

For A Moment My Soul Was Elevated From Its Debasing And Miserable Fears To Which These Sights Were The Monuments And The Remembrances. For An Instant I Dared To Shake Off My Chains, And Look Around Me With A Free And Lofty Spirit; But The Iron Had Eaten Into My Flesh, And I Sank Again, Trembling And Hopeless, Into My Miserable Self.

Beware; For I Am Fearless, And Therefore Powerful.

I Saw -- With Shut Eyes, But Acute Mental Vision -- I Saw The Pale Student Of Unhallowed Arts Kneeling Beside The Thing He Had Put Together. I Saw The Hideous Phantasm Of A Man Stretched Out, And Then, On The Working Of Some Powerful Engine, Show Signs Of Life, And Stir With An Uneasy, Half-vital Motion.

Our Faults Are Apt To Assume Giant And Exaggerated Forms To Our Eyes In Youth.