What have you failed today?

I know it now—I know it—who shall free me from even such guilt? 

Do you see that tree? 

Often and often I sink down beneath it with groans of regret, for on its branches are gathered the opportunities of a wasted life. 

They keep falling down on me, ready to crush me.

I am often driven thither by the lashes of the awful inevitable. How happy I might have been—how much I might have done in the days of golden possibility. 

But I would not!

As a blind man, I walked in life, careless of light. It is dark now, but I can see—I do see the failure of my days.

Letters from Hell