Perhaps after all not to have been born is best. How near the human soul must be to nothingness if it can be so tossed.

Sentimentally and in the soul it went on for ages, it still goes on, it goes on and on.

And all the time my very soul would travel with her, invisible and crying soundlessly with pain. I had acquired a dimension of suffering which would poison and devour my whole being, as far as I could see, forever.

The notion that one can liberate another soul from captivity is an illusion of the very young.