15 august 2011

He knew not what to do - Something, he felt, must be done - he rose, drew his writing-desk suddenly before him - sate down, took the pen - & found that he knew not what to do.

one of those thoughtful men whose plate of pudding often swims before their eyes while they are eating

Mind, shipwrecked by storms of doubt, now mastless, rudderless, shattered, - pulling in the dead swell of a dark and windless Sea.

He is always doing
something else

- ibid, 1800

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