No, I'll not weep: I have full cause of weeping, But this heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or ere I'll weep; O Fool, I shall go mad."
"Gradually there settles down a dreadful, eternal silence of the cemetery. All go mad, without words, they realise what is happening within them, and make up their minds for the last shift: to hide their grief for ever from men, and to speak in commonplace, trivial words which will be accepted as sensible, serious, and even lofty expressions. No longer will anyone cry: "Life is a waste," and intrude his feelings on his neighbours. Everybody knows that it is shameful for one's life to be a waste, and that this shame should be hidden from every eye. The last law on earth is—loneliness..."
Résigne-toi, mon coeur, dors ton sommeil de brute!
(Resign yourself, my heart, sleep your brutish sleep)
