I had thought that it had forsaken me; that it would never visit me again; that I had outgrown it; that I might almost bid defiance to it; and I had even begun to think of it without horror, as we are in the habit of doing of horrors of which we conceive we run no danger; and lo! when least thought of, it had seized me again.
Every moment I felt it gathering force, and making me more wholly its own.

What should I do ?--resist, of course; and I did resist.

I grasped, I tore, and strove to fling it from me; but of what avail were my efforts?
I could only have got rid of it by getting rid of myself: it was a part of myself, or rather it was all myself.

I rushed amongst the trees, and struck at them with my bare fists, and dashed my head against them, but I felt no pain.

How could I feel pain with that horror upon me! and then I flung myself on the ground, gnawed the earth, and swallowed it; and then I looked round: it was almost total darkness in the dingle, and the darkness added to my horror.