You talk of a climax; pray has your endurance reached its climax?
It is not four months old.
What a fine resolute fellow you imagined yourself to be when you told Tynedale you would tread in your father's steps, and a pretty treading you are likely to make of it! How well you like X----! Just at this moment how redolent of pleasant associations are its streets, its shops, its warehouses, its factories! How the prospect of this day cheers you! Letter-copying till noon, solitary dinner at your lodgings, letter-copying till evening, solitude; for you neither find pleasure in Brown's, nor Smith's, nor Nicholl's, nor Eccle's company; and as to Hunsden, you fancied there was pleasure to be derived from his society--he! he! how did you like the taste you had of him last night?
was it sweet?
Yet he is a talented, an original-minded man, and even he does not like you; your self-respect defies you to like him; he has always seen you to disadvantage; he always will see you to disadvantage; your positions are unequal, and were they on the same level your minds could not; assimilate; never hope, then, to gather the honey of friendship out of that thorn-guarded plant.

Hello, Crimsworth! where are your thoughts tending?
You leave the recollection of Hunsden as a bee would a rock, as a bird a desert; and your aspirations spread eager wings towards a land of visions where, now in advancing daylight--in X---- daylight--you dare to dream of congeniality, repose, union.

Those three you will never meet in this world; they are angels.

The souls of just men made perfect may encounter them in heaven, but your soul will never be made perfect.

Eight o'clock strikes! your hands are thawed, get to work!" "Work?
why should I work ?" said I sullenly: "I cannot please though I toil like a slave." "Work, work!" reiterated the inward voice.