I Trembled, And My Heart Failed Within

The Fallen Angel Becomes A Malignant Devil. Yet Even That Enemy Of God And Man Had Friends And Associates In His Desolation; I Am Alone.

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

In My Joy I Thrust My Hand Into The Live Embers, But Quickly Drew It Out With A Cry Of Pain. How Strange, I Thought That The Same Cause Should Produce Such Opposite Effects.

My Own Mind Began To Grow, Watchful With Anxoius Thoughts.

The Agony Of My Feelings Allowed Me No Respite; No Incident Occurred From Which My Rage And Misery Could Not Extract Its Food.