noon
On all but the strongest minds it casts a narcotizing spell , so that thought is arrested , and originality , vivacity , individuality become a crime -- a shame that must be hidden . Into this strange organism I took my wounded heart , imagining that an atmosphere of coma might help to heal it . But no ! Within a week my state had become such that I could have cried out in mid Union Street at noon : ` Look at me with your dead eyes , you dead who have omitted to get buried , I am among you , and I am an adulteress in spirit ! And my body has sinned the sin ! And I am alive as only grief can be alive . I suffer the torture of vultures , but I would not exchange my lot with yours ! '