For us, on the contrary, the Lager is not a punishment; for us, no end is foreseen and the Lager is nothing but a manner of living assigned to us, without limits of time, in the bosom of the Germanic social organism.

Under the benignant providence of Almighty God the representatives of the States and of the people are again brought together to deliberate for the public good.

Here we slept," she says.  And he adds, "Kisses without number."  "Waking in the morning -"  "Silver between the trees -"  "Upstairs -"  "In the garden -" "When summer came -" "In winter snowtime -" The doors go shutting far in the distance, gently knocking like the pulse of a heart.

Written By Virginia Woolf

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