Oh the brave power of the bitter north wind which freezes the tears it has caused to shed! But I will not bear this; go: the sun will rise and set as before you came, and I shall sit among the pines or wander on the heath weeping and complaining without wishing for you to listen.

You are cruel, very cruel, to treat me who bleed at every pore in this rough manner."[61] And then, when in answer to my peevish words, I saw his countenance bent with living pity on me[,] when I saw him Gli occhi drizzo ver me con quel sembiante Che madre fa sopra figlioul deliro P[a]radiso.

C 1.[62] I wept and said, "Oh, pardon me! You are good and kind but I am not fit for life.

Why am I obliged to live?
To drag hour after hour, to see the trees wave their branches restlessly, to feel the air, & to suffer in all I feel keenest agony.

My frame is strong, but my soul sinks beneath this endurance of living anguish.