It is as if a curtain had been drawn from before my eyes, and,
instead of prospects of eternal life, the abyss of an ever open
grave yawned before me. Can we say of anything that it exists
when all passes away, when time, with the speed of a storm, carries
all things onward, -- and our transitory existence, hurried along
by the torrent, is either swallowed up by the waves or dashed
against the rocks? There is not a moment but preys upon you, --
and upon all around you, not a moment in which you do not yourself
become a destroyer. The most innocent walk deprives of life
thousands of poor insects: one step destroys the fabric of the
industrious ant, and converts a little world into chaos. No: it
is not the great and rare calamities of the world, the floods which
sweep away whole villages, the earthquakes which swallow up our
towns, that affect me. My heart is wasted by the thought of that
destructive power which lies concealed in every part of universal
nature. Nature has formed nothing that does not consume itself,
and every object near it: so that, surrounded by earth and air,
and all the active powers, I wander on my way with aching heart;
and the universe is to me a fearful monster, for ever devouring
its own offspring.

AUGUST 21.

In vain do I stretch out my arms toward her when I awaken in the
morning from my weary slumbers. In vain do I seek for her at night
in my bed, when some innocent dream has happily deceived me, and
placed her near me in the fields, when I have seized her hand and
covered it with countless kisses. And when I feel for her in the
half confusion of sleep, with the happy sense that she is near,
tears flow from my oppressed heart; and, bereft of all comfort, I