“I seemed to float not into clearness, but into a darker obscure, and within a minute there had come to me out of my very pity the appalling alarm of his being perhaps innocent. It was for the instant confounding and bottomless, for if he were innocent, what then on earth was I?”

Source: The Turn of the Screw (1898), Ch. XXIV.

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Henry James 154
American novelist, short story author, and literary critic 1843–1916

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