No armour wherein my reason can invest me is of avail against Carlotta.

I have no strength to smite.

I am helpless.
But by heaven! Am I mad?
Is not this on the contrary the sanest hour of my existence?
I have lived like an automaton for forty years, and I suddenly awake to find myself a man.

I don't care whether I sleep or not.

I feel gloriously, exultingly young.