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“I have been eaten up like bread. I lie down in thorns and my well is filled with stones. All my happiness was smoke.”

“Once more they did their best to salvage the dead amid a night that was made sepulchral by the attenuated and dancing shadows of trees and men that were cast out by the leaping orange pyres.”

“As that small magnesium sun hovered and blazed, the black pines stepped out of their modest shadows as though previously they had been veiled like virgins but had now decided to be seen as they are in heaven.”