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           Ilookedatthemwithaswiftquickeningofinterest—notbecauseitoccurredtomeImightbeeatenbythembeforeverylong,thoughIowntoyouthatjustthenIperceived—inanewlight,asitwere—howunwholesomethepilgrimslooked,andIhoped,yes,Ipositivelyhoped,thatmyaspectwasnotso—whatshallIsay?—so—unappetizing:atouchoffantasticvanitywhichfittedwellwiththedream-sensationthatpervadedallmydaysatthattime.PerhapsIhadalittlefever,too.Onecan’tlivewithone’sfingereverlastinglyonone’spulse.Ihadoften‘alittlefever,’oralittletouchofotherthings—theplayfulpaw-strokesofthewilderness,thepreliminarytriflingbeforethemoreseriousonslaughtwhichcameinduecourse.Yes;Ilookedatthemasyouwouldonanyhumanbeing,withacuriosityoftheirimpulses,motives,capacities,weaknesses,whenbroughttothetestofaninexorablephysicalnecessity.Restraint!Whatpossiblerestraint?Wasitsuperstition,disgust,patience,fear—orsomekindofprimitivehonour?Nofearcanstanduptohunger,nopatiencecanwearitout,disgustsimplydoesnotexistwherehungeris;andastosuperstition,beliefs,andwhatyoumaycallprinciples,theyarelessthanchaffinabreeze.Don’tyouknowthedevilryoflingeringstarvation,itsexasperatingtorment,itsblackthoughts,itssombreandbroodingferocity?Well,Ido.Ittakesamanallhisinbornstrengthtofighthungerproperly.