It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.
From childhood's hour I have not been. As others were, I have not seen. As others saw, I could not awaken. My heart to joy at the same tone. And all I loved, I loved alone.
In the deepest slumber—no! In delirium—no! In a swoon—no! In death—no! even in the grave all is not lost.
The true genius shudders at incompleteness – and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be.
I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from
The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
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