You are my creator, but I am your master; Obey! - Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Alas! Why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by every wind that blows and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us.

The very winds whispered in soothing accents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more.

But now misery has come home, and men appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other's blood.