Oftentimes I say to myself, “Thou alone art wretched: all other mortals are happy, —none are distressed like thee!” Then I read a passage in an ancient poet, and I seem to understand my own heart. I have so much to endure! Have men before me ever been so wretched?
from Johann Wolfgang von Goethe “The Sorrows of Young Werther” (Translated by Thomas Carlyle and R.D. Boylan)