A quote from a letter in "The World" periodical

"a disconsolate being, daily contending betwixt pride and poverty; a mournful relic of misspent youth; a walking dial, with two hands pointing to the lost hours"

I found this in an article in the Times Literary Supplement about suicide. It is from an 18th century journal called "The World", by a man called "John Tristman", who describes himself as a gentleman in distress, a 'disconsolate being'. He discusses his failure in holding down a job and would like to make a living by offering his set of apartments as comfortable "receptacles for suicides", allowing people to come and kill themselves in comfort and luxury. I should point out at this point that the journal it was published in is highly satirical. It is a slightly bizarre quote, and the first in this blog not to come from literature, but I enjoy the concept of 'lost hours' nonetheless.