The World Was To Me A Secret

When I Run Over The Frightful Catalogue Of My Sins, I Cannot Believe That I Am The Same Creature Whose Thoughts Were Once Filled With Sublime And Transcendent Visions Of The Beauty And The Majesty Of Goodness. But It Is Even So; The Fallen Angel Becomes A Malignant Devil.

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.

My Dreams Were All My Own; I Accounted For Them To Nobody; They Were My Refuge When Annoyed - My Dearest Pleasure When Free.

My Dreams Were At Once More Fantastic And Agreeable Than My Writings.

Our Faults Are Apt To Assume Giant And Exaggerated Forms To Our Eyes In Youth.