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declining body, a declining mind,—and nothing to look back upon except the visions of things that might have been—and the weariness.
I see the picture. I see it plainly. Oh, kind Devil, deliver me from it!
Surely there must be in a world of manifold beautiful things something among them for me. And always, while I am still young, there is that dim light, the Future. But it is indeed a dim, dim light, and ofttimes there's a treachery in it.
