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Defoe, Daniel, 1661-1731

"Robinson Crusoe"

I cannot explain,
by any possible energy of words, what a strange longing I felt in
my soul upon this sight, breaking out sometimes thus: "Oh that
there had been but one or two, nay, or but one soul saved out of
this ship, to have escaped to me, that I might but have had one
companion, one fellow-creature, to have spoken to me and to have
conversed with!" In all the time of my solitary life I never felt
so earnest, so strong a desire after the society of my fellow-
creatures, or so deep a regret at the want of it.
There are some secret springs in the affections which, when they
are set a-going by some object in view, or, though not in view, yet
rendered present to the mind by the power of imagination, that
motion carries out the soul, by its impetuosity, to such violent,
eager embracings of the object, that the absence of it is
insupportable. Such were these earnest wishings that but one man
had been saved. I believe I repeated the words, "Oh that it had
been but one!" a thousand times; and my desires were so moved by
it, that when I spoke the words my hands would clinch together, and
my fingers would press the palms of my hands, so that if I had had
any soft thing in my hand I should have crushed it involuntarily;
and the teeth in my head would strike together, and set against one
another so strong, that for some time I could not part them again.


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