How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we have of life even in the excess of misery! - Mary Wollstonecraft

Soon a gentle light stole over the heavens, and gave me a sensation of pleasure. I started up, and beheld a radiant form rise from among the trees.* I gazed with a kind of wonder. It moved slowly, but it enlightened my path ; and I again went out. * The moon.

When happy, inanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most delightful sensations.

The fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation; I am alone.