The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

“If he be Mr. Hyde,” he had thought, “I shall be Mr. Seek.”

There comes an end to all things;

put your heart in your ears

Hyde had a song upon his lips as he com­poun­ded the draught, and as he drank it, pledged the dead man. The pangs of trans­form­a­tion had not done tear­ing him, be­fore Henry Je­kyll, with stream­ing tears of grat­it­ude and re­morse, had fallen upon his knees and lif­ted his clasped hands to God.

I ran to the house in Soho, and (to make as­sur­ance doubly sure) des­troyed my pa­pers; thence I set out through the lamp­lit streets, in the same di­vided ec­stasy of mind, gloat­ing on my crime, light­headedly de­vis­ing oth­ers in the fu­ture,

Je­kyll had more than a father’s in­terest; Hyde had more than a son’s in­dif­fer­ence.

I had gone to bed Henry Je­kyll, I had awakened Ed­ward Hyde. How was this to be ex­plained?

I have been doomed to such a dread­ful ship­wreck: that man is not truly one, but truly two.

This, then, is the last time, short of a mir­acle, that Henry Je­kyll can think his own thoughts or see his own face (now how sadly altered!) in the glass.

The veil of self-in­dul­gence was rent from head to foot.