What was any art but a mould in which to imprison for a moment the shining elusive element which is life itself - life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose.
life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose.
The emptiness was intense, like the stillness in a great factory when the machinery stops running.
This land was an enigma. It was like a horse that no one knows how to break to harness, that runs wild and kicks things to pieces.
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