There are moments in which life is at its crowning point, and when one heeds not the abyss that threatens close beneath.

Such an hour is the present.

I am aware that this hour makes me guilty of high treason and may send me to the block; but nevertheless I will not be silent.
The fire which burns in my breast consumes me.

I must at length give it vent.

My heart, that for years has burned upon a funeral pyre, and which is so strong that in the midst of its agonies it has still ever felt a sensation of its blessedness--my heart must at length find death or favor.