One is broken and blurred; one emerges like a peak, a good half of it fallen into nothing.

At the end of the row, the ravages have been less, and only the eyes are smitten.

The hollow orbits in those marble heads look outwards with dried darkness.

The deep and obscure face-wounds have the look of caverns and funnels, of the shadows in the moon; and stars of mud are clapped on the faces in the place where eyes once shone.
Our strides have passed that trench.

We go more quickly and trouble no more now about the star-shells, which, among us who know nothing, say, "I know" and "I will." All is changed, all habits and laws.