How to console oneself for having exhausted in one month the greatest source of happiness which is in man — of having exhausted it without happiness, without hope, being certain that one has drained it for life?

Oh! come and preach peace after that! Come and ask men who suffer to take pity upon what is! Pity, never! Hatred, that is all. He who does not feel it deeply, this hatred of the present, cannot really have in him the love of the future.

...I like to doubt your cruel prophecy when you say that I shall not work any more. But I admit that it is not without likelihood. To be a savant, I should need to be that alone. My heart has revolted against my head. I do not add as you. do: It is a pity.