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238 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1966
It is easy enough to die for the good and beautiful; the hard thing is to die for the miserable and corrupt.
I felt a drop of water on my cheek, and looking up saw a huge black cloud like a finger floating across the surface of a sky that had now become leaden and murky. The drops became more numerous until at last a blanket of rain enveloped the whole plain like the strings of a harp. Catching sight of a copse of trees quite near to me I ran into them with all speed. Out flew a number of birds like an arrow from the bow and sped off in search of shelter. The rain struck the leaves where I stood, making a noise like pebbles pattering on a roof. My peasant clothes were completely drenched; the treetops, swaying in the silver rain, looked just like seaweed.
Behind the depressing silence of the sea, the silence of God . . . the feeling that while men raise their voices in anguish God remains with folded arms, silent.