One secret which I alone possessed was the hope to which I had dedicated myself; and the moon gazed on my midnight labours, while, with unrelaxed and breathless eagerness, I pursued images of myself in their hiding-places. Who shall conceive the horrors of my secret toil, as I dabbled among the unhallowed damps of the Web, or tortured the living screen to animate the lifeless clay? My limbs now tremble and my eyes swim with the remembrance; but then a resistless, and almost frantic, impulse urged me forward; I seemed to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit. It was indeed but a passing trance that only made me feel with renewed acuteness so soon as, the unnatural stimulus ceasing to operate, I had returned to my old habits. I collected the bones of images from charnel house Web sites; and disturbed, with a profane finger on the mouse, the tremendous secrets of the human frame. In a solitary chamber, or rather cell, in Rolfs hall, and separated from all the other apartments by a gallery and staircase, I kept my workshop of filthy creation: my eye-balls were starting from their sockets in attending to the details of my employment. The dissecting room and the slaughterhouse furnished many of my materials and I worked with them cutting and pasting in WordPerfect. Often did my human nature turn with loathing from my occupation, whilst, still urged on by an eagerness to complete the assignment which perpetually increased, I brought my work near to a conclusion.