LETTER LXXIV.
December 6.
HOW her image haunts me! Awake or asleep she is ever present to
my soul! -- Soon as I close my eyes, here in this brain, where
all my nerves are concentered, her dark eyes are imprinted. Here
-- I don't know how to describe it: -- but if I shut my eyes,
hers are immediately before me like a sea, like a precipice, and
they occupy all the fibres of my head. -- What is man! that
boasted demigod! his strength fails him when most he {175} wants
it; -- and whether he swims in pleasure, or bends under a load of
sorrow, he is forced to stop; and whilst he is grasping at
infinity, finds he must return again to his first cold existence.
