Solitude is sometimes the best society.
Anon out of the earth a fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation.
A boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless expos'd.
To live a life half dead, a living death.
Such bickerings to recount, met often in these our writers, what more worth is it than to chronicle the wars of kites or crows flocking and fighting in the air?
Now I see Peace to corrupt no less than war to waste.