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We have to resume it where we had left off, and there steals over

us a terrible sense of the necessity for the continuance of

energy in the same wearisome round of stereotyped habits, or a

wild longing, it may be, that our eyelids might open some morning

upon a world that had been refashioned anew in the darkness for

our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh shapes and

colours, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in which

the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate,

in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance

even of joy having its bitterness and the memories of pleasure

their pain.