Apparently one side of my mind was unalterably fixed, while the other was a hurrying conglomeration of flashes of thought, reception of sensations.

I could not get calm.
By and by, almost involuntarily, with a fleeting look backward as if in expectation of pursuit, I hurried faster on.

Action seemed to make my state less oppressive; it eased the weight upon me.

But the farther I went on, the harder it was to continue.

I was turning my back upon love, happiness, success in life, perhaps on life itself.