Young blood must have its course, lad, and every dog its day.
Gradually the sunken land begins to rise again, and falls perhaps again, and rises again after that, more and more gently each time, till as it were the panting earth, worn out with the fierce passions of her fiery youth, has sobbed herself to sleep once more, and this new world of man is made.
Are gods more ruthless than mortals? Have they no mercy for youth? no love for the souls who have loved them?
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