Now he sat upon the floor, motionless in all his limbs, with his eyes glazed and fixed; a monument of woe.
Anon a spirit of tempestuous but undesigning activity seized him.
He rose from his place and strode across the floor, tottering and at random.

His eyes were without moisture, and gleamed with the fire that consumed his vitals.

The muscles of his face were agitated by convulsion.

His lips moved, but no sound escaped him.
That nature should long sustain this conflict was not to be believed.
My state was little different from that of my brother.

I entered, as it were, into his thought.