I Am Not A Person Of Opinions

Supremely Frightful Would Be The Effect Of Any Human Endeavor To Mock The Stupendous Mechanism Of The Creator Of The World.

She Was No Longer That Happy Creature Who In Earlier Youth Wandered With Me On The Banks Of The Lake And Talked With Ecstasy Of Our Future Prospects. The First Of Those Sorrows Which Are Sent To Wean Us From The Earth Had Visited Her, And Its Dimming Influence Quenched Her Dearest Smiles.

The World To Me Was A Secret, Which I Desired To Discover; To Her It Was A Vacancy, Which She Sought To People With Imaginations Of Her Own.

When I Run Over The Frightful Catalogue Of My Sins, I Cannot Believe That I Am The Same Creature Whose Thoughts Were Once Filled With Sublime And Transcendent Visions Of The Beauty And The Majesty Of Goodness. But It Is Even So; The Fallen Angel Becomes A Malignant Devil.

The Time At Length Arrives, When Grief Is Rather An Indulgence Than A Necessity And The Smile That Plays Upon The Lips, Although It May Be Deemed A Sacrilege, Is Not Banished.