I am in a strange state of mind. I am alone — quite alone — in the world — the blight of misfortune has passed over me and withered me; I know that I… - Mary Wollstonecraft

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I am in a strange state of mind. I am alone — quite alone — in the world — the blight of misfortune has passed over me and withered me; I know that I am about to die and I feel happy — joyous. — I feel my pulse; it beats fast: I place my thin hand on my cheek; it burns: there is a slight, quick spirit within me which is now emitting its last sparks. I shall never see the snows of another winter — I do believe that I shall never again feel the vivifying warmth of another summer sun; and it is in this persuasion that I begin to write my tragic history. Perhaps a history such as mine had better die with me, but a feeling that I cannot define leads me on and I am too weak both in body and mind to resist the slightest impulse. While life was strong within me I thought indeed that there was a sacred horror in my tale that rendered it unfit for utterance, and now about to die I pollute its mystic terrors. It is as the wood of the Eumenides none but the dying may enter; and Oedipus is about to die.