"i have looked at her from my prison-window, when i could not bear her light. i have looked at her when it has been such torture to me to think of her shining upon what i had lost, that i have beaten my head against my prison-walls. i have looked at her, in a state so dull and lethargic, that i have thought of nothing but the number of horizontal lines i could draw across her at the full, and the number of perpendicular lines with which i could intersect them." he added in his inward and pondering manner, as he looked at the moon, "it was twenty either way, i remember, and the twentieth was difficult to squeeze in."