"These were what I remembered most clearly through the monotony of the forest: the lovely swooping flight of the small bright rice-birds, the fragil yellow cotton flowers growing with no stalk directly out of the canes, something like a wild rose, transparent primrose petals with a small red centre and a black stamen; butterflies, palms, goats and rocks and great straight silver cotton trees, and through the canes the graceful walking women with baskets on their heads. This was what I carried with me into new country, an instinctive simplicity, a thoughtless idealism.
"Dagomai, Dagomai, I kept on repeating in the hope that somebody would have heard of the place. Presently 'Duogobmai,' the chief said doubtfully. It sounded very nearly right, it was on the way to Nicoboozu, and I decided that it must be the place the doctor had meant."
"I had been afraid of the primitive, had wanted it broken gently, but here it came on us in a breath, as we stumbled up through the dung and the cramped and stinking huts to out lampless sleeping place among the rats. It was the worst one need fear, and it was bearable because it was inescapable."
"This...seemed to be what I would chiefly remember as Africa: cockroaches eating our clothes, rats on the floor, ants fastening on the flesh. But, in retrospect even the cockroaches seem only the badge of an unconquered virginity, 'never sacked, turned, nor wrought'."
"...Guiana is a country that hath yet her maidenhead, never sacked, turned, nor wrought; the face of the earth hath not been torn, nor the virtue and salt of the soil spent by manurance. The graves have not been opened for gold, the mines not broken with sledges, nor their images pulled down out of their temples. It hath never been entered by any army of strength, and never conquered or possessed by any Christian prince. It is besides so defensible,..."
"Te sine, væ misero mihi, lilia nigra videntur,Pallentesque rosæ, nec dulce rubens hyacinthus,Nullos nec myrtus, nec laurus spirat odores."(Calphurnius Græcus. "Without thee, ah! wretched me, the lilies lose their whiteness, the roses become pallid, the hyacinths forget to blush; neither the myrtle nor the laurel retains its colours.")"
"no one had ever transferred to this forest any human emotion at all...it was impossible here to think of Nature in such terms of enchantment and nostalgia; it would have been like cherishing a dead weed in a pot, a sign of mental derangement."
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