Was there nothing that would serve to quench the fire that was burning within me?
What if instead of drinking the blood of others I were to drink my own?
It would be all unavailing, I was well aware, but scarcely had the thought crossed my mind, than I proceeded to put it into execution.

I unclasped my knife, and, stripping my arm, with a steady thrust I opened a small vein.

The blood oozed out slowly, drop by drop, and as I eagerly swallowed the source of my very life, I felt that for a moment my torments were relieved, But only for a moment; all energy had failed my pulses, and almost immediately the blood had ceased to flow.
How long it seemed before the morning dawned! and when that morning came it brought another fog, heavy as before that again shut out the horizon.
The fog was hot as the burning steam that issues from a boiler.

It was to be my last day upon earth, and I felt that I would like to press the hand of a friend before I died.

Curtis was standing near, and crawling up to him, I took his hand in my own.