If I Could I Would Always Work

Terror Made Me Cruel; And Finding It Useless To Attempt Shaking The Creature Off, I Pulled Its Wrist On To The Broken Pane, And Rubbed It To And Fro Till The Blood Ran Down And Soaked The Bedclothes.

How Cruel, Your Veins Are Full Of Ice-water And Mine Are Boiling

Time Brought Resignation And A Melancholy Sweeter Than Common Joy.

You Have Been Compelled To Cultivate Your Reflective Faculties, For Want Of Occasions For Frittering Your Life Away In Silly Trifles.

Proud People Breed Sad Sorrows For Themselves.