With horror he perceived that, by uniting himself as he had with the dead, he had cut himself off from the living. Stripped of all earthly hope, bereft of every consolation, he was rendered as poor as mortal can possibly be on this side of the grave.
How may I hate that which I love with such intensity of passion? How should I abhor that for which my every drop of blood is boiling?
Consider too, how deep the abyss between life and death; across this, my power can build a bridge, but it can never fill up the frightful chasm.
