Any Relic Of The Dead Is Precious,

Oh, I'm Burning! I Wish I Were Out Of Doors! I Wish I Were A Girl Again, Half Savage And Hardy, And Free... And Laughing At Injuries, Not Maddening Under Them! Why Am I So Changed?

You Have Left Me So Long To Struggle Against Death, Alone, That I Feel And See Only Death! I Feel Like Death!

Terror Made Me Cruel; And Finding It Useless To Attempt Shaking The Creature Off, I Pulled Its Wrist On To The Broken Pane, And Rubbed It To And Fro Till The Blood Ran Down And Soaked The Bedclothes.

And There You See The Distinction Between Our Feelings: Had He Been In My Place, And I In His, Though I Hated Him With A Hatred That Turned My Life To Gall, I Never Would Have Raised A Hand Against Him. You May Look Incredulous, If You Please! I Never Would Have Banished Him From Her Society As Long As She Desired His. The Moment Her Regard Ceased, I Would Have Torn His Heart Out And Drank His Blood! But, Till Then - If You Don't Believe Me, You Don't Know Me - Til Then, I Would Have Died By Inches Before I Touched A Single Hair On His Head!

And, Even Yet, I Dare Not Let It Languish, Dare Not Indulge In Memory's Rapturous Pain; Once Drinking Deep Of That Divinest Anguish, How Could I Seek The Empty World Again?