Was it to
be an heir of sorrow? was it to live for myself alone, and then pass
away and let my memory perish with me? No, I was born for a better--a
higher and more holy purpose. I was not born to pass a few moments on
the stage of life and then disappear forever.... With a shudder I turn
away and would gladly forget to think. O thought, thought! thou wilt
distract me,--thou hast almost hurled reason from her throne. Thou
bitter tormentor! depart, if but for a moment, and let me once more
find peace. But no; the more I seek to elude still nearer the demon
pursues. O thought, thought! it rushes forth from my soul like the
wild outpourings of the volcanic mountains and overwhelms me with its
burning tide till body, mind and soul--all, all are exhausted and lie
like a straw upon the roaring bosom of the deep. Oh, that I could
arise, mingle with the gay, and forget my own deep and overpowering
thoughts. But no; such thoughts, like the soul which gave them birth,
can never die. O thought, what art thou? A blessing to angels, a curse
to me. Distracted soul, sink into repose: others are happy, and wast
thou born to be more wretched than they? Truly thou wast, and why?
Because thou livest only in the regions of thought--_thought_ which is
burning my brain and piercing my lacerated heart.
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