Thursday, October the 14th, 2004
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“I lift it to my nostrils, forced to do so by an irresistible fascination; and even through that hermetical sealing it seems to me as if I perceived a whiff of death—a charnel odor that is horrible. It may be, nevertheless, only fancy working on me with the heavy air of this recent corpse-chamber in which I live. It is not poison, but that fluid, even through its stout glass walls, murders me like a slow lightning! O my God! would that I could bury it, burn it, dash it from me where it would never return! But it is an indestructible phial of vengeance—a fluid doom of hell—never, never, never to be exiled from me any more!” — Fitzhugh Ludlow, The Phial Of Dread: By An Analytic Chemist