Now all was blasted; instead of that serenity of conscience which allowed me to look back upon the past with self-satisfaction, and from thence to gather promise of new hopes, I was seized by remorse and the sense of guilt, which hurried me away to a hell of intense tortures such as no language can describe.
So much self pity in this section of the book. A man creates another living being, abandons it out of fear and disgust of his creation, and then sulks forever at the consequences of his actions. I fear this has dead beat dad written all over it.
