Over here a man quickly loses faith, and I find myself back on solid ground once more. "Shall I never banish those horrible phantoms from my couch—the father with his bleeding breast and dripping hair!—the mother with her wringing hands and looks of vengeance and reproach!—And must another be added to their number—their son! Horror!—let me be spared this new crime! And yet the gibbet—my name tarnished—my escutcheon blotted by the hangman!—No, I cannot submit to that. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. It isn’t the same thing.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 13-09-2024 12:55:50
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