“My hands weakening, I feel on all sides blindness growing in the land on its peering bulbous stalks. I see that my mind is not good enough. I see that I am eager to own the earth and to own men. I find in my mouth a bitter taste of money, a gaping syllable I can neither swallow nor spit out. I see that we have ruined in order to have, all that was owned for a lifetime to be destroyed forever.
Where are the sleeps that escape such dreams?”