Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre (№ 219004)

My eyes were closed; it seemed that all around me thickening the darkness, and the thoughts raging in me like a dark and stormy tide. Exhausted, weakened, without will, I seemed to be lying on the bottom of the dried up large rivers. I heard from the mountains rushing powerful stream and approaching me, but I have no desire to get up, I didn't have the strength to escape from him. I lay in exhaustion, calling death. The thought fluttered in me some weak life: it was a remembrance of God; it lived in silent prayer; her unspoken words little glimmer in my clouded mind, I had to utter them aloud, but do not have the strength...
"Don't walk away from me, for grief is near and no one to help me".
Oh, it was close! And since I didn't ask heaven to avert it, not folded hands, bowed knees, opened the mouth, it has struck me; mighty, flowing stream washed over me with terrible force. The bitter consciousness of lost life, broken my love, my lost hopes, my prostrate faith - it all rushed to me with a massive dark mass. This terrible tea defies description. Truly "all thy billows and thy waves swept over me".