Each Of Us Bears The Imprint Of

But Many, Many Stories Were Told; From What Could Be Gathered, All Fifty Of The Mine's Inhabitants Had Reacted On Each Other, Two By Two, As In Combinatorial Analysis, That Is To Say, Everyone With All The Others, And Especially Every Man With All The Women, Old Maids Or Married, And Every Woman With All The Men. All I Had To Do Was To Select Two Names At Random, Better If Different Sex, And Ask A Third Person, "what Happened With Those Two?" And Lo And Behold, A Splendid Story Was Unfolded For Me, Since Everyone Knew The Story Of Everyone Else.

Dawn Came On Us Like A Betrayer; It Seemed As Though The New Sun Rose As An Ally Of Our Enemies To Assist In Our Destruction.

There Are Few Men Who Know How To Go To Their Deaths With Dignity, And Often They Are Not Those Whom One Would Expect.

Anyone Who Has Obeyed Nature By Transmitting A Piece Of Gossip Experiences The Explosive Relief That Accompanies The Satisfying Of A Primary Need.

They Sensed That What Had Happened Around Them And In Their Presence, And In Them, Was Irrevocable. Never Again Could It Be Cleansed; It Would Prove That Man, The Human Species - We, In Short - Had The Potential To Construct An Enormity Of Pain, And That Pain Is The Only Force Created From Nothing, Without Cost And Without Effort. It Is Enough Not To See, Not To Listen, Not To Act.