Life Is Obstinate And Clings Closest Where

To Examine The Causes Of Life, We Must First Have Recourse To Death.

For A Moment My Soul Was Elevated From Its Debasing And Miserable Fears To Which These Sights Were The Monuments And The Remembrances. For An Instant I Dared To Shake Off My Chains, And Look Around Me With A Free And Lofty Spirit; But The Iron Had Eaten Into My Flesh, And I Sank Again, Trembling And Hopeless, Into My Miserable Self.

I Beheld The Wretch-the Miserable Monster Whom I Had Created.

Oh! Be Men, Or Be More Than Men. Be Steady To Your Purposes And Firm As A Rock. This Ice Is Not Made Of Such Stuff As Your Hearts May Be; It Is Mutable And Cannot Withstand You If You Say That It Shall Not. Do Not Return To Your Families With The Stigma Of Disgrace Marked On Your Brows. Return As Heroes Who Have Fought And Conquered, And Who Know Not What It Is To Turn Their Backs On The Foe.

I Expected This Reception. All Men Hate The Wretched; How, Then, Must I Be Hated, Who Am Miserable Beyond All Living Things! Yet You, My Creator, Detest And Spurn Me, Thy Creature, To Whom Thou Art Bound By Ties Only Dissoluble By The Annihilation Of One Of Us. You Purpose To Kill Me. How Dare You Sport Thus With Life? Do Your Duty Towards Me, And I Will Do Mine Towards You And The Rest Of Mankind. If You Will Comply With My Conditions, I Will Leave Them And You At Peace; But If You Refuse, I Will Glut The Maw Of Death, Until It Be Satiated With The Blood Of Your Remaining Friends.