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It was indeed but a passing trance, that only made me feel with

renewed acuteness so soon as, the unnatural stimulus ceasing to

operate, I had returned to my old habits. I collected bones from

charnel-houses and disturbed, with profane fingers, the

tremendous secrets of the human frame. In a solitary chamber, or

rather cell, at the top of the house, and separated from all the

other apartments by a gallery and staircase, I kept my workshop

of filthy creation; my eyeballs were starting from their sockets

in attending to the details of my employment. The dissecting room

and the slaughter-house furnished many of my materials; and often

did my human nature turn with loathing from my occupation,

whilst, still urged on by an eagerness which perpetually

increased, I brought my work near to a conclusion.