Surely like Dante I have written on my face the fact that I have been in hell.

Only Dante never imagined any hell like an English prison; in his lowest circle people could move about; could see each other, and hear each other groan: there was some change, some human companionship in misery...." "When did you begin to eat the food ?" I asked.
"I can't tell, Frank," he replied.

"After some days I got so hungry I had to eat a little, nibble at the outside of the bread, and drink some of the liquid; whether it was tea, coffee or gruel, I could not tell.

As soon as I really ate anything it produced violent diarrhoea and I was ill all day and all night.

From the beginning I could not sleep.