He buried her beside her husband. After the services were over and the few mourners had gone, he stood alone in a cold November wind and looked at the two graves, one open to its burden and the other mounded and covered by a thin fuzz of grass. He turned on the bare, treeless little plot that held others like his mother and father and looked across the flat land in the direction of the farm where he had been born, where his mother and father had spent their years. He thought of the cost exacted, year after year, by the soil; and it remained as it had been—a little more barren, perhaps, a little more frugal of increase. Nothing had changed. Their lives had been expended in cheerless labor, their wills broken, their intelligences numbed. Now they were in the earth to which they had given their lives; and slowly, year by year, the earth would take them. Slowly the damp and rot would infest the pine boxes which held their bodies, and slowly it would touch their flesh, and finally it would consume the last vestiges of their substances. And they would become a meaningless part of that stubborn earth to which they had long ago given themselves.
Random Passages is a random collection of memorable writing.
- Were you in love with her?
- During the first part of your life, you only become of happiness once you have lost it
- Your only chance of survival, if you are sincerely smitten, lies in hiding this fact from the woman you love
- They look so fine, and young, and wrapped up in each other.
- Christ, he thinks, by my age I ought to know
16th century 18th century 19th century 20th century 21st century American Australia Australian autobiography Booker British Central America Christmas Classic crime cruise ship Czech dark diner Dutch English family fish French Greece historical fiction Japan Japanese magical Middle-East mystery New Zealand Panama prison Pulitzer Russian spy thriller thriller tragicomedy Victorian vietnam war Western wolves World War I