March 5, 1845.
But I did not mean to strike a ‘tragic chord’; indeed I did not! Sometimes one’s melancholy will be uppermost and sometimes one’s mirth, — the world goes round, you know — and I suppose that in that letter of mine the melancholy took the turn. As to ‘escaping with my life,’ it was just a phrase — at least it did not signify more than that the sense of mortality, and discomfort of it, is peculiarly strong with me when east winds are blowing and waters freezing. For the rest, I am essentially better, Continue reading “#12”