Terror Made Me Cruel.

The Old Church Tower And Garden Wall Are Black With Autumn Rain And Dreary Winds Foreboding Call The Darkness Down Again

I Have No Pity! I Have No Pity! The More Worms Writhe, The More I Yearn To Crush Out Their Entrails! It Is A Moral Teething, And I Grind With Greater Energy, In Proportion To The Increase Of Pain.

I Cannot Live Without My Life! I Cannot Live Without My Soul!

They Forgot Everything The Minute They Were Together Again.

Wondered How Anyone Could Ever Imagine Unquiet Slumbers, For The Sleepers In That Quiet Earth.