The Agony Of My Feelings Allowed Me

My Person Was Hideous And My Stature Gigantic. What Did This Mean? Who Was I? What Was I? Whence Did I Come? What Was My Destination? These Questions Continually Recurred, But I Was Unable To Solve Them.

Look Forward To Future Years, If Not With Eager Anticipation, Yet With A Calm Reliance Upon The Power Of Good, Wholly Remote From Despair.

And Now, Once Again, I Bid My Hideous Progeny Go Forth And Prosper. I Have An Affection For It, For It Was The Offspring Of Happy Days, When Death And Grief Were But Words, Which Found No True Echo In My Heart.

Ennui, The Demon, Waited At The Threshold Of His Noiseless Refuge, And Drove Away The Stirring Hopes And Enlivening Expectations, Which Form The Better Part Of Life.

Poetry, And The Principle Of Self, Of Which Money Is The Visible Incarnation, Are The God And The Mammon Of The World.