His Conversation Was Marked By Its Happy

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.

At The Age Of Twenty Six I Am In The Condition Of An Aged Person - All My Old Friends Are Gone... & My Heart Fails When I Think By How Few Ties I Hold To The World.

I Am Not A Person Of Opinions Because I Feel The Counter Arguments Too Strongly.

I Leave A Sad And Bitter World; And If You Remember Me, And Think Of Me As Of One Unjustly Condemned, I Am Resigned To The Fate Awaiting Me.

Even The Eternal Skies Weep, I Thought; Is There Any Shame Then, That Mortal Man Should Spend Himself In Tears?