Nevertheless, In This Sea Of Human Wretchedness

Amid The Stillness Of The Night, In The Depths Of The Ravine, From The Direction In Which The Corpses Lay Suddenly Resounded A Kind Of Inhuman, Frightful Laughter In Which Quivered Despair, And Joy, And Cruelty, And Suffering, And Pain, And Sobbing, And Derision; The Heart-rending And Spasmodic Laughter Of The Insane Or Condemned.

I Go To Church Because I Am A Skeptic In Regard To My Own Skepticism.

But The French Writers Always Had More Originality And Independence Than Others, And That Regulator, Which Elsewhere Was Religion, Long Since Ceased To Exist For Them.

There Is Within Us A Moral Instinct Which Forbids Us To Rejoice At The Death Of Even An Enemy.

In The Meantime The Groans Changed Into The Protracted, Thunderous Roar By Which All Living Creatures Are Struck With Terror, And The Nerves Of People, Who Do Not Know What Fear Is, Shake, Just As The Window-panes Rattle From Distant Cannonading.