In the procession I should feel the crushing feet, the clashing discords, the ruthless hands and stifling breath. I could not hear the rhythm of the march.
The generous abundance of her passion, without guile or trickery, was like a white flame which penetrated and found response in depths of his own sensuous nature that had never yet been reached.
It is greater than the stars - that moving procession of human energy; greater than the palpitating earth and the things growing thereon.
There are some people who leave impressions not so lasting as the imprint of an oar upon the water.
When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease - of joy that kills.
But the beginning of things, of a world especially, is necessarily vague, tangled, chaotic, and exceedingly disturbing. How few of us ever emerge from such beginning! How many souls perish in its tumult!
