Quotes4663 of 42574 |
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"With the dried blood stiff on my temples I climbed the hill, cursing the satanic way of men, yet knowing myself vile, for they had not known what they were doing, but I betrayed an innocent; and the tears— weak, whiskey tears— would not wash from my brow the blood of a little brother."
The Village Book (1930) - after a killing of a badger by villagers. | ||