The World Was To Me A Secret

I Shall Commit My Thoughts To Paper, It Is True; But That Is A Poor Medium For The Communication Of Feeling. I Desire The Company Of A Man Who Could Sympathize With Me, Whose Eyes Would Reply To Mine.

From My Infancy I Was Imbued With High Hopes And A Lofty Ambition.

The Instructor Can Scarcely Give Sensibility Where It Is Essentially Wanting, Nor Talent To The Unpercipient Block. But He Can Cultivate And Direct The Affections Of The Pupil, Who Puts Forth, As A Parasite, Tendrils By Which To Cling, Not Knowing To What - To A Supporter Or A Destroyer.

Allow Me Now To Return To The Cottagers, Whose Story Excited In Me Such Various Feelings Of Indignation, Delight, And Wonder, But Which All Terminated In Additional Love And Reverence For My Protectors (for So I Loved, In An Innocent, Half Painful Self-deceit, To Call Them).

It Was Very Different When The Masters Of Science Sought Immortality And Power; Such Views, Although Futile, Were Grand: But Now The Scene Was Changed. The Ambition Of The Inquirer Seemed To Limit Itself To The Annihilation Of Those Visions On Which My Interest In Science Was Chiefly Founded. I Was Required To Exchange Chimeras Of Boundless Grandeur For Realities Of Little Worth.