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340 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1923
And that new existence – is it to be reached only through the Gates of Hell? – Ah, Hell is no invention of the imagination, but a real place which lies before me at this moment, a place of a charmed, magic circle of mountain and sea. And in that Hell day succeeds to day merely in a sort of changeless and purposeless sequence – a sequence so changeless and so purposeless that human beings grow confused and bewildered within its confines, and start groping about for a way of possible escape.
Farther and farther, aimlessly, I thread the snow-covered ravines. For I too am returned from the ages; I too am a barbarian of the caves. Unfortunately, though, I lack a shaggy hide for my covering. To cover me I have only a tattered suit and boots with toe-caps worn away until the rag-wrapt feet project. Nor have I at my disposal the cave-man's strength. And yet how intelligible and how familiar that life of my far-off ancestors seems to my instincts! And to think that though they had snow and darkness as have I, they lacked even fire to combat them with, and could not, as soon I shall be doing, light a stove on their return indoors! Yet for all that they survived.