While they lasted—what wonderful emotion was it that I felt?
But they are not real.
They fade away—they fade away.
And again come the varied phenomena of my life to bewilder and terrify me.
Confusion! Chaos! Damnation! They are not moments of exaltation now. Poor little Mary MacLane!
"If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces."
I do not know what to do.
I do not know what were good to do.
I would do nothing if I knew.
I might add to my litany this: Most kind Devil, deliver me—from myself.
