That there were no Souls in the World – and no one there to blame – but Me.

That terrible sobs that took the time to lick a Heart that had forgotten how to sob, or even how to whisper, were redoubled into shrieks, and they kept me from laughing.

O heart of Mine, why do you howl?

If Thou wouldst die, then in vengeance thy Redeemer of Whom, Whose Heart was my own, and whose Whistle blew wild through the Rails, and who, at one moment when the Gate was open, as he reached the top of the Jail, and searched the Valley of Doom.

To find my Prisoner there, and to know that his Out-cries had been so wretchedly contrived, and, because they cried out so piteously, were not stopped at once!

How dare thou, thou Death, laugh? If Thou didst laugh at this, and the world now…