Nikolay Gogol. (№ 454131)

My health is better. I had a good winter. At the end of it, only the melancholy came, which I tried in every possible way to defeat. But with the approach of spring, he could not resist. My nerves shook me all over, plunged me into such despondency, into such indecision, into such anguish from my own indecision, that I was completely weary.