“The great grindstone, Earth, had turned when Mr. Lorry looked out again, and the sun was red on the courtyard. But, the lesser grindstone stood alone there in the calm morning air, with red upon it that the sun had never give, and would never take away.”

“Each soul must meet the morning sun, the new sweet earth and the Great Silence alone.”

“God is never tired of bringing the sun out every morning, taking it in the evenings and bringing out the moon.”

“The tree that never had to fightfor sun and sky and air and lightbut stood out in the open plainand always got it share of rain,never became a forest kingbut lived and died a scrubby thing.Good timber does not grow with ease.The stronger wind, the stronger trees. ”

“There were no clouds, the sun was going down in a limpid, gold-washed sky. Just as the lower edge of the red disk rested on the high fields against the horizon, a great black figure suddenly appeared on the face of the sun. We sprang to our feet, straining our eyes toward it. In a moment we realized what it was. On some upland farm, a plough had been left standing in the field. The sun was sinking just behind it. Magnified across the distance by the horizontal light, it stood out against the sun, was exactly contained within the circle of the disk; the handles, the tongue, the share—black against the molten red. There it was, heroic in size, a picture writing on the sun.”

“The sun had become a light yellow yolk and was walking with red legs across the sky.”