There was a dull, weight-like feeling in his stomach, and, when he tried to walk, his head swayed and he tottered.

He could not see with distinctness.
Small patches of green mist floated before his vision.
While he had been tossed by many emotions, he had not been aware of ailments.

Now the beset him and made clamor.

As he was at last compelled to pay attention to them, his capacity for self-hate was multiplied.

In despair, he declared that he was not like those others.
He now conceded it to be impossible that he should ever become a hero.
He was a craven loon.