And there seemed no power in nature sufficient to begin the formation of my character anew, and create, in a mind now irretrievably analytic, fresh associations of pleasure with any of the objects of human desire.
These were the thoughts which mingled with the dry, heavy dejection of the melancholy winter of 1826-7.

During this time I was not incapable of my usual occupations.

I went on with them mechanically, by the mere force of habit.

I had been so drilled in a certain sort of mental exercise, that I could still carry it on when all the spirit had gone out of it.

I even composed and spoke several speeches at the debating society, how, or with what degree of success, I know not.