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Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. She closed her eyes more vividly to recall some line which had carried the blot. “I wish they did,” he said, “but they don’t. "I never told anybody," she went on. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. One gets drawn into things. She throws a sort of spell over us all. Morals only begin when that is settled. ‘Come, Hilary. I will make your grandfather extend to you his protection, and his support. "'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet.
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This video was uploaded to thenextfuture.net on 17-09-2024 10:17:10
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