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"Fear not that I shall be the instrument of future mischief. My

work is nearly complete. Neither yours nor any man's death is

needed to consummate the series of my being and accomplish that

which must be done, but it requires my own. Do not think that I

shall be slow to perform this sacrifice. I shall quit your vessel

on the ice raft which brought me thither and shall seek the most

northern extremity of the globe; I shall collect my funeral pile

and consume to ashes this miserable frame, that its remains may

afford no light to any curious and unhallowed wretch who would

create such another as I have been. I shall die. I shall no

longer feel the agonies which now consume me or be the prey of

feelings unsatisfied, yet unquenched. He is dead who called me

into being; and when I shall be no more, the very remembrance of

us both will speedily vanish. I shall no longer see the sun or

stars or feel the winds play on my cheeks.