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plans; and all his plans were evil. His very lust was systematic.
He would brood over his bad purposes for such a dreary length of time, that it might have been expected, some solitary check of conscience must have intervened to save him from commission. But that Light from Heaven was extinct in his dark bosom.
Nothing that is Great, nothing that is Amiable, existed for this unhappy man. He feared, he envied, he suspected; but he never loved. The Sublime and Beautiful in Nature, the Excellent and Becoming in Morals, were things placed beyond the capacity of his sensations. Heloved
