The Sky Is One Whole, The Water

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.

Evidently The Merit Depends On The Result Of The Work.

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.

The Fact Is That Between The Classes There Is A Vast Gulf That Precludes All Mutual Understanding, And Makes Simultaneous Efforts Simply Impossible.

On An Exhausted Field, Only Weeds Grow.