4
" Yes, I laugh at all mankind, and the imposition that they dare to practice when they talk of hearts. I laugh at human passions and human cares, vice and virtue, religion and impiety; they are all the result of petty localities, and artificial situation. One physical want, one severe and abrupt lesson from the colorless and shriveled lip of necessity, is worth all the logic of the empty wretches who have presumed to prate it, from Zeno down to Burgersdicius. It silences in a second all the feeble sophistry of conventional life, and ascetical passion. "
― Charles Maturin , Melmoth the Wanderer
5
" Dans l’automne de l’année 1816, John Melmoth, élève du collège de la Trinité, à Dublin, suspendit momentanément ses études pour visiter un oncle mourant, et de qui dépendaient toutes ses espérances de fortune. John, qui avait perdu ses parents, était le fils d’un cadet de famille, dont la fortune médiocre suffisait à peine pour payer les frais de son éducation ; mais son oncle était vieux, célibataire et riche. Depuis sa plus tendre enfance, John avait appris, de tous ceux qui l’entouraient, à regarder cet oncle avec ce sentiment qui attire et repousse à la fois, ce respect mêlé du désir de plaire, que l’on éprouve pour l’être qui tient en quelque sorte en ses mains le fil de notre existence. "
― Charles Maturin , Melmoth the Wanderer
14
" But (for Melmoth never could decide) was it in a dream or not, that he saw the figure of his ancestor appear at the door?–hesitatingly as he saw him at first on the night of his uncle's death,–saw him enter the room, approach his bed, and heard him whisper, 'You have burned me, then; but those are flames I can survive. I am alive, I am beside you.' Melmoth started, sprung from his bed,–it was broad day-light. He looked round,–there was no human being in the room but himself. He felt a slight pain in the wrist of his right arm. He looked at it, it was black and blue, as from the recent gripe of a strong hand. "
― Charles Maturin , Melmoth the Wanderer
