The solitude and the silence assume an
oppressive significance. They are only the garment of the mighty mystery
that envelops you. You feel that these dead walls have ears, eyes, and most
potent voices, that you are not in the midst of a great loneliness, but
that all around the earth is full of most tremendous secrets. And then you
realise that the city that is as dead as Nineveh to the outward eye is the
most vital city in the world.
One day it will rise from its ashes, its streets will resound once more
with jest and laughter, its fires will be relit, and its chimneys will send
forth the cheerful smoke. But its glory throughout all the ages will be the
memory of the days when it stood a mound of ruins on the plain with its
finger pointing in mute appeal to heaven against the infamies of men.
ON PLEASANT SOUNDS
The wind had dropped, and on the hillside one seemed to be in a vast and
soundless universe. Far down in the valley a few lights glimmered in the
general darkness, but apart from these one might have fancied oneself alone
in all the world.
Pages:
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227