Nothing Is So Painful To The Human

Women Are Told From Their Infancy, And Taught By The Example Of Their Mothers, That A Little Knowledge Of Human Weakness, Justly Termed Cunning, Softness Of Temper, Outward Obedience And A Scrupulous Attention To A Puerile Kind Of Propriety, Will Obtain For Them The Protection Of Man.

Oh! Grief Is Fantastic; It Weaves A Web On Which To Trace The History Of Its Woe From Every Form And Change Around; It Incorporates Itself With All Living Nature; It Finds Sustenance In Every Object; As Light, It Fills All Things, And, Like Light, It Gives Its Own Colors To All.

These Wonderful Narrations Inspired Me With Strange Feelings. Was Man, Indeed, At Once So Powerful, So Virtuous, And Magnificent, Yet So Vicious And Base? He Appeared At One Time A Mere Scion Of The Evil Principle And At Another As All That Can Be Conceived Of Noble And Godlike.

Oh! Stars And Clouds And Winds, Ye Are All About To Mock Me; If Ye Really Pity Me, Crush Sensation And Memory; Let Me Become As Nought; But If Not, Depart, Depart, And Leave Me In Darkness.

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.