It Is With Considerable Difficulty That I

But I Am A Blasted Tree; The Bolt Has Entered My Soul; And I Felt Then That I Should Survive To Exhibit What I Shall Soon Cease To Be - A Miserable Spectacle Of Wrecked Humanity, Pitiable To Others And Intolerable To Myself.

Life And Death Appeared To Me Ideal Bounds, Which I Should First Break Through, And Pour A Torrent Of Light Into Our Dark World.

I Trembled, And My Heart Failed Within Me; When, On Looking Up, I Saw, By The Light Of The Moon, The Daemon At The Casement.

There Is Something At Work In My Soul Which I Do Not Understand. I Am Practically Industrious - Painstaking, A Workman To Execute With Perseverance And Labour - But Besides This There Is A Love For The Marvellous, A Belief In The Marvellous, Intertwined In All My Projects, Which Hurries Me Out Of The Common Pathways Of Men, Even To The Wild Sea And Unvisited Regions I Am About To Explore.

My Dreams Were At Once More Fantastic And Agreeable Than My Writings.