Page 15 - The Raven

which he carried in his breast; and
forgetting all besides, he had nothing
but that marble in his head; in short,
he became in a manner so worn away
upon the stone that he was at last as
thin as the edge of a penknife; and this
marble was a millstone which crushed
his life, a slab of porphyry upon which
the colours of his days were ground
and mixed,a tinder-box which set fire
to the brimstone match of his soul, a
loadstone which attracted him, and
lastly, a rolling-stone which could
never rest.