The Modern Masters Promise Very Little

Solitude Becomes A Sort Of Tangible Enemy, The More Dangerous, Because It Dwells Within The Citadel Itself.

Allow Me Now To Return To The Cottagers, Whose Story Excited In Me Such Various Feelings Of Indignation, Delight, And Wonder, But Which All Terminated In Additional Love And Reverence For My Protectors (for So I Loved, In An Innocent, Half Painful Self-deceit, To Call Them).

There Is Love In Me The Likes Of Which You've Never Seen. There Is Rage In Me The Likes Of Which Should Never Escape. If I Am Not Satisfied Int He One, I Will Indulge The Other.

A Truce To Philosophy!—life Is Before Me, And I Rush Into Possession. Hope, Glory, Love, And Blameless Ambition Are My Guides, And My Soul Knows No Dread. What Has Been, Though Sweet, Is Gone; The Present Is Good Only Because It Is About To Change, And The To Come Is All My Own.

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.