A sense of utter loneliness loneliness inevitable, crushing, eternal, the loneliness of existence, encompassed by the infinite void of unconsciousness enfolded him as a pall. Life lay like an incubus on his bosom. He shuddered at the thought that death might overlook him, and deny him its refuge.
A voice of greeting from the wind was sent; The mists enfolded me with soft white arms; The birds did sing to lap me in content, The rivers wove their charms, And every little daisy in the grass Did look up in my face, and smile to see me pass!richard henry stoddard
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