Read "Clarissa Harlowe" by Samuel Richardson online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Monday Morn. Five o'clock (June 19). I must write on. Nothing else can divert me: and I think thou canst not have been a dog to me.
I would fain have closed my eyes: but sleep flies me. Well says Horace, as translated by Cowley: The halcyon sleep will never build his nest In any stormy breast. 'Tis not enough that he does find Clouds and darkness in the mind: Darkness but half his work will do. 'Tis not enough: he must find quiet too.