I Ought To Be Thy Adam, But

You Seek For Knowledge And Wisdom As I Once Did; And I Ardently Hope That The Gratification Of Your Wishes May Not Be A Serpent To Sting You, As Mine Has Been.

I Am Alone And Miserable. Only Someone As Ugly As I Am Could Love Me.

To Examine The Causes Of Life, We Must First Have Recourse To Death.

Our Feelings Probably Are Not Less Strong At Fifty Than They Were Ten Or Fifteen Years Before; But They Have Changed Their Objects, And Dwell On Far Different Prospects. At Five-and-thirty A Man Thinks Of What His Own Existence Is; When The Maturity Of Age Has Grown Into Its Autumn, He Is Wrapt Up In That Of Others. The Loss Of Wife Or Child Then Becomes More Deplorable, As Being Impossible To Repair; For No Fresh Connection Can Give Us Back The Companion Of Our Earlier Years, Nor A "new-sprung Race" Compensate For That, Whose Career We Hoped To See Run.

I Ought To Be Thy Adam, But I Am Rather The Fallen Angel.