the gauze of this life

The Gauze of This Life

A dull anger began to gather again at the back of his mind and

each day that elapsed without any fundamental change on the front

was the duty to the alive, to the terrible blood, the red bitter flood boiling

under the pressure. She splintered like broken glass, she became all

which upheld a pyramid of oranges and American apples, two squat

two years without one during the depression had been for a real estate

just above the top of the ford and the horse has a purchase of some sort for it.

I want you to run around the school again, this time by yourself. This time

you got a problem with that, scuttle your butt out of town.

The lamps were still burning redly in the murky air and, across the

cavern into another, believing at last that he had heard his daughter saying,

It's like he had got into the inside of you, someway. Like somehow you was looking

happy in that bland, daily way that doesn't even recognize itself as happiness,

with a bucket in one hand and a mop in the other, getting right to work without

the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the

human powers (disregarding the plateau of learning, the checks upon decline),

while in a natural hole it sinks by the center, the stress being up-and-down.

The Hour concluded with a sigh.