The hill with its long grasses resembled a green sea.

The thick forests across the river, almost black at the water's edge, turned a fainter and more delicate hue as they receded, till, far away, they looked like mottled glass.

Only yesterday he had laughed with me, talked and smoked with me, and now he was dead.

A rage pervaded me.

We are puny things, we, who strut the highways of the world, parading a so-called wisdom.