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Why did I not die? More miserable than man ever was before, why

did I not sink into forgetfulness and rest? Death snatches away

many blooming children, the only hopes of their doting parents;

how many brides and youthful lovers have been one day in the

bloom of health and hope, and the next a prey for worms and the

decay of the tomb! Of what materials was I made that I could thus

resist so many shocks, which, like the turning of the wheel,

continually renewed the torture?