My food has not nourished me--my sleep has not refreshed me--my devotions have not comforted me--all that is cheering and necessary to man has been to me converted into poison.

The rare and limited intercourse which I have held with others has been most odious to me.

I felt as if I were bringing the contamination of unnatural and inexpressible guilt among the gay and the innocent.

There have been moments when I had thoughts of another description--to plunge into the adventures of war, or to brave the dangers of the traveller in foreign and barbarous climates--to mingle in political intrigue, or to retire to the stern seclusion of the anchorites of our religion;--all these are thoughts which have alternately passed through my mind, but each required an energy, which was mine no longer, after the withering stroke I had received.

I vegetated on as I could in the same spot--fancy, feeling, judgment, and health, gradually decaying, like a tree whose bark has been destroyed,--when first the blossoms fade, then the boughs, until its state resembles the decayed and dying trunk that is now before you.