Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all human kind sinned against me?

I allowed my thoughts, unchecked by reason, to ramble in the fields of Paradise, and dared to fancy amiable and lovely creatures sympathizing with my feelings and cheering you gloom…But it was all a dream: no Eve soothed my sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone.

Do not waste your time upon this; it is sad trash.

I beheld the wretch-the miserable monster whom I had created.

my feelings became calmer, if it may be called calmness when the violence of rage sinks into the depths of despair

Teach him to think for himself? Oh, my God, teach him rather to think like other people!

I thought and pondered -- vainly. I felt that blank incapability of invention which is the greatest misery of authorship, when dull Nothing replies to our anxious invocations,

Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void but out of chaos.