Who toil not, neither do they spin.

Soon, too soon, I entered the giddy whirl; forgetting my studious hours,

and the companionship of Adrian. Passionate desire of sympathy, and ardent

pursuit for a wished-for object still characterized me. The sight of beauty

entranced me, and attractive manners in man or woman won my entire

confidence. I called it rapture, when a smile made my heart beat; and I

felt the life's blood tingle in my frame, when I approached the idol which

for awhile I worshipped. The mere flow of animal spirits was Paradise, and

at night's close I only desired a renewal of the intoxicating delusion. The

dazzling light of ornamented rooms; lovely forms arrayed in splendid

dresses; the motions of a dance, the voluptuous tones of exquisite music,

cradled my senses in one delightful dream.

And is not this in its kind happiness? I appeal to moralists and sages. I

ask if in the calm of their measured reveries, if in the deep meditations

which fill their hours, they feel the extasy of a youthful tyro in the

school of pleasure? Can the calm beams of their heaven-seeking eyes equal

the flashes of mingling passion which blind his, or does the influence of

cold philosophy steep their soul in a joy equal to his, engaged

In this dear work of youthful revelry.

But in truth, neither the lonely meditations of the hermit, nor the

tumultuous raptures of the reveller, are capable of satisfying man's heart.

From the one we gather unquiet speculation, from the other satiety. The

The Last Man