"I am very, very wretched," he sighed, with a voice suffocated by weeping, and sank upon a chair, sobbing aloud, and covering his face with his hands.
Goethe approached him, and laid his hand gently upon his shoulder.

"Why are you so miserable?
Is there any human being who can help you ?" he kindly inquired.
"Yes," sobbed Moritz; "there are those who could, but they will not, and I am lost.

I stand upon the brink of a precipice, with Insanity staring at me, grinning and showing her teeth.

I know it, but cannot retreat.

I wear the mask of madness to conceal my careworn face.