Good paragraph: a famous paragraph describing "auction"

Straw sandals were stuffed into his crotch, and he walked out of the shop with a high air and like a thief. In a place where the street lights couldn't shine, seeing that there were no police shadows on either side, he hurriedly took it out of his crotch, put on a serious face as a businessman, took the goods to the brightly lit street, and went to find customers. I immediately thought: How should I word this so that people don’t see that I am just auctioning a pair and not losing money on the price? This is simply a general principle: goods in merchants’ shops are as expensive as treasures. It’s really hard to explain. If it's a second-price item, when it falls into our hands and goes up for auction, even though you haven't used it, the price will be reduced by half as usual. This pair of straw sandals was sold on the streets with my hands, and it was almost a loss. What else could I say? However, I couldn't let nature take its course. I had to be clever, and it didn't matter if I just pretended. Really, in order to survive, even thieves will do it, if they are forced to starve to death. The society surrounding us has no room for a good person who shows his true colors everywhere. If a sincere good person can live, he will need a new world. If I had told the shop owner as soon as I entered the store that I was hungry and had no confidence in the store's balance, then I would really have to sleep on the street and be favored by the police. Based on this philosophy of life, I called to the rickshaw driver who was resting by the hawker stall and stretched out my hand holding the straw sandals. "Hey, do you want straw sandals? I brought a new one from Zhaotong. This is what a pair looks like. Let's see: do you want them?" The rickshaw drivers passed the straw sandals one by one and rubbed them under the smelly oil lamp next to the vendor stall. I put my hands behind my back, like an experienced boss, and observed the expressions of the bosses. One said fondly: "This is too expensive." A man with a short mustache said, "I don't know how to wear it!" The other said leisurely and contentedly, "It's better to wear our straw sandals!" This market is really good. It's so bad, I'm a little anxious. Suddenly the vendor selling peanuts and peas asked me the price: "How much does a pair cost?" "How many pairs do you want to buy?" he asked as if he had sold hundreds of pairs of straw sandals, "If there are more, the price will be a little lower. Just buy it." A pair costs four hundred cents!" I bought it at this price, and I wasn't cruel. I wanted to pay a higher price, but I was afraid of losing this good customer. "Hey, if you add a little more money, you can buy a pair of cloth shoes. How can they be so expensive?" The vendor pretended not to look at the goods and cast his eyes on the stall, as if silently counting the piles of peanuts and peas. ' I grabbed the straw sandals and showed them to him and said, "Look, these are Zhaotong straw sandals. In fact, I don't know why Zhaotong straw sandals are special to Kunming. I just pretended to talk like an expert. "It doesn't matter what you say. You are from Zhaotong, straw sandals are always straw sandals, unlike eggs that can turn into chickens!" The vendor tilted his mouth slightly and taunted me. My face suddenly turned red for some reason, and I took the straw sandals angrily and left. "Two hundred cents! Do you want to sell it?" He suddenly offered me a price of "Three hundred and five!" I turned around and replied, "One to add, one to give, two hundred and five." "A rickshaw driver said. "It's what he said!" The vendor shouted to me, and I stopped. "Three hundred! Not a lot!" I insisted on my price. "Fuck you! I don't want it anymore. . "I went for a walk and found a large number of landlords, rickshaw drivers, porters, hawkers, and young men. It was like a gramophone repeating the words many times: pick out straw sandals... look like a pair... buy more. The price was reduced. However, the result was very bad. It was either a counter-offer of 160 or 180. It seemed that they had seen through that I was waiting to sell the straw sandals before eating. I had no other choice, so I had to go back and look for it. This peanut and pea vendor sold them for two hundred and fifty, but he pretended not to eat them and snorted in response to me. Maybe the fake face I had put on earlier had been torn off by his embarrassment. . Therefore, he was just pretending. Finally, he said, "No! These straw sandals are useless!" This really hit a loud wall, and I turned around and ran away. "Okay! Two hundred, two hundred!" He caught me like this again. This was actually twenty cents more than one hundred and eighty, and these twenty cents were of great value to me here and now. It was incomparable. So I sold him the yellow copper plates (one was worth twenty coins) and he counted them one by one on my palm. I counted ten of them carefully. Soon, I threw the coins on the steps one by one to see if there were any dull ones. This behavior was completely unlike a businessman selling a load of goods, but I no longer cared about the rickshaw on the side. The husband said: "Oh, two hundred cents for a pair, then we want it too.

Go get a few more pairs!" "No more, no more I" I was a little angry. But the anger soon disappeared. It was like putting ten silver dollars in my bag, and joy trembled on my lips. — —(Ai Wu: "A Lesson in the Philosophy of Life" "Selected Short Stories of Ai Wu" pages 4-7)

This place is so spacious. If it weren't for the low fence, forty pairs of Men and women can dance the mazurka freely inside, but the fence divides the court into two parts, one to accommodate the audience and the other to hold the auction. There are several wicker chairs in the area to accommodate the audience, and a wooden platform is set up in the auction room. There was a large table shaped like a horseshoe, covered with green velvet. Mr. Ikenasi saw three officials standing beside the table, wearing necklaces around their necks, with the pretentious look on their faces: This is the executioner. In front of each executioner is a stack of documents related to the real estate auction. Between the table and the fence, and behind the fence, there are a group of businessmen standing, looking up at the executioner. Even the monks who devoutly observe the sky would be jealous of his concentrated appearance.

——([Populus: "Puppet", page 470)

The shouts of the auction appraisers could be heard at the gate. The room was filled with curious people. All the ladies from Huajie and Liuxiang were present, and a few ladies were secretly watching them. This time they could take advantage of the opportunity. In the name of the auction, take a closer look at the women they have never had the chance to get along with. Maybe they are secretly envious of these women's free and indulgent life. F Duchess's arm bumped into Miss A; A The young lady is a typical unlucky beauty in today's prostitute circle. Marquise T is hesitating whether to buy the piece of furniture for which Mrs. D is constantly raising the price. Mrs. D is the most romantic and famous slut in the world. Prince Y., who was considered bankrupt in Paris and in Madrid, had not actually spent all his annual income, while he was chatting with Mme. But she is flirting with Mrs. N. Mrs. M is a talented short story writer. She often wants to write down what she says and sign her name. The beautiful Mrs. N is often on the Champs Elysées. During the walk, she wore pink and sky blue clothes, and was driven by two strong black horses. Tony asked her for ten thousand francs for these two horses... She paid in full, and finally Miss R. She The status she earned by her own talents put those upper-class women who relied on dowry to shame, and those who relied on love were even more out of reach. She came to buy some things despite the cold weather, and people really paid attention to her. Quite a bit. I must mention that everyone was in great spirits at that time. Although many of the women were acquaintances of the deceased, there seemed to be no nostalgia for the deceased at this time. They shouted loudly. The merchants who filled the benches in front of the auction table tried their best to tell everyone to be quiet so that they could continue their business, but they definitely ignored them. I have never seen such a noisy and noisy gathering. ——([France] Xiao Dumas: "La Traviata" pages 15-17)

When three o'clock struck, the quartermasters would put two large red wax seals on them, marked with The canvas bag bearing Sylvester's name was brought to the deck to be auctioned—a dead man's belongings must be auctioned by law—all his clothes, all his living things. And the sailors came and stood around happily. On a hospital ship, people often saw the auction of such cloth bags, so they were no longer moved. Besides, Sylvester was not well known on this ship. His blouse, shirt, blue-striped undershirt, etc., were all touched, turned over, and then bought for a certain amount. The buyer increases the value and resells it to others for fun. Now it was the turn of the important little box, which was valued at fifty sous. The letters and medals in the box had long been taken out and prepared to be handed over to his family, but there were still books in which he copied songs, Confucius's works, and the threads, buttons, and needles that his grandmother Evanle had put there for him to mend. and all kinds of odds and ends. Later, the quartermaster who held up the auction items took out two small Buddha statues that Sylvester had robbed in a pagoda and prepared to give to Gothe. The two Buddha statues looked so strange that everyone couldn't help laughing when they met such a bad fate.

However, although these sailors smiled like this, it was not because of ruthlessness, but just because of a lack of thinking. The last thing sold were two cloth bags. The buyer immediately erased the name on the bag and wrote his own name on it. After the auction was over, someone carefully swept away the dust and rope scraps that had fallen on the exceptionally clean deck. The sailors happily went back to playing with their parrots and monkeys. ——([French] Luo Ti; "Iceland Fishermen" pp. 108-109) Good paragraphs: Famous paragraphs describing "labor"

People at this time were already the same as when they were fighting and charging. : Some dropped their straw hats, some took off their shirts, all the sickles were shining brightly, as if people were flying, the sickles were flying, wheat lightning was flying, and there seemed to be fire in the wheat field covered with poplars. The whirlwind blows down the wheat piece by piece and blows it into sheaves. On the way from Baiyangtao to the village, the ox carts, mule carts, packs, and burdens are like running water in the wide places, like twisting ropes in the narrow places, and they are like twisting ropes at the edge of the village. Wheat stacks are piled up on the wheat field. (Zhao Shuli: "Old Quota" "Selected Novels of Zhao Shuli" pp. 423-424)

The big carts pulling wheat rushed out of the village, one, two, three... there was a roll behind the carts. Yellow smoke. The bells jingled, the horses' hooves clattered, the red tasseled whip crackled, the driver sang a Hebei tune, and the man sang a female tune at the top of his voice, which made people laugh! After a while, the cart drove into the wheat field, and followed the cart. The members of the commune, holding ropes and wooden rights in their hands, jumped out of the car one by one. One person jumped and couldn't stand still, causing a scene. The commune members who had just stopped their sickles all ran over automatically to help move the wheat, pile it up and load the carts. Some picked them with their picks, while others grabbed them with their hands, picked up the wheat and threw it into the car. After a while, each car was loaded up like a hill, with a few people swinging on top, and a few strong young men below, shouting slogans and shaking the "win pole". The rope as thick as a small arm held the wheat. The cables were tightly held... One after another, the carts were loaded, and they were filled to the brim. The young men following the carts first threw the forks up from under the carts, and then people climbed up and lay on the roofs of the carts. , and rolled around on it, laughing and joking with the wheat harvesters. The man on the handlebar shook his whip solemnly and proudly, and passed by. The animals in the long harness leaned on the shaft of the cart again, and shouted "Drive!", and the cart made a noise and walked back along the road. Swaying like a fat man who has eaten a lot of rice and stewed meat. (Haoran: "Sunny Sky" pp. 1194-1195)

We climbed up the embankment through the dense wind and snow, and when we saw it, drink! The light shone like daylight. I suddenly realized that this must be the water pumping station construction site of Wanjin Agricultural Cooperative. The caisson project is nearing completion. A large pipe is sucking water from the bottom of the pit like a black python, and the machines in a water pump room built on reed mats are making loud noises. Many people wore long rubber boots and tape pants and worked in the icy water. The overhead steel cables lift up the prefabricated cement blocks and then send them down below. Half of the base wall where the water pump is installed has been built. Along the edge of the huge pit, on the wooden springboards crisscrossed, people carrying mud and earth were busy going up and down. The electric lights hanging in the air were swaying in the wind, and the snow and mist were spinning, fluttering and flying like a white blanket. (Liu Baiyu: "A Warm Snowy Night" "Short Stories Since the Founding of the People's Republic of China" Volume 1, page 337)

Levin stared at Ivan Parminov and his wife more attentively. They were loading hay into the car not far from him. Ivan Parminov stood in the cart, receiving, putting away and smoothing down the large bundles of hay that his beautiful young wife deftly handed to him, first by the armful and then by the armful. Later I skewered it with a fork. The young peasant woman worked calmly, happily and quickly. The compacted hay was not easy to attach to her fork, so she first raked the hay loose, stabbed it in with the fork, then with a deft, elastic movement she put her entire body weight on the fork, and then immediately tied her Red Belt bent her back, raised her body, puffed out her plump breasts under her white shirt, flexibly turned her fork, and threw bundles of hay high into the car. Ivan obviously wanted to spare her unnecessary labor. He quickly opened his arms widely to receive the bundles of hay she threw, and placed them flatly on the side of the car.

When she had raked up the last remnants of the hay, the young peasant woman brushed away the grass clippings that had fallen on her neck and straightened the red hair that hung down on her fair forehead, which had not yet been tanned by the sun. She climbed into the car to help tie the headscarf. Ivan showed her how to tie the rope to the crossbar, and he laughed loudly when she said something. The expressions on their faces reveal a strong, young, newly awakened love. ([Russian] Leo Tolstoy: "Anna Karenina" page 402)

After the poplar tree, strips of wheat fields stretched straight from the avenue like dazzling yellow carpets To the top of the mountain. The wheat on the hillside has been cut and bundled into bunches, but the wheat fields at the foot of the mountain have just been harvested... Six wheat harvesters stood in a row, waving their sickles, the sickles shining brightly, and they all sang "Fuxi" in time. , Fuxi!” the voice. From the movements of the peasant women shepherding the wheat, from the faces of the wheat reapers, and from the light of the sickles, it can be seen that the heat is baking them, making them suffocated. A black dog with its tongue hanging out ran towards the carriage from the wheat cutter. It probably wanted to bark for a while, but it stopped halfway and looked indifferently at Janiska, who was shaking the whip to scare it. It was a hot day. Even the dogs refused to bark! A peasant woman straightened up, put her hands on her painful back, and stared at Yegorushka's red shirt. Whether it was the red color of the shirt that caught her fancy, or whether he reminded her of her children, she didn't know. Anyway, she stood there, motionless, staring at him blankly for a long time...([ Russia] Chekhov: "Steppe" "Selected Novels of Chekhov" page 157)

The two brown horses had run north and disappeared, but Quito knew; they were fast would have stopped because they were tired, and the mare might have continued on to the edge of the lake bed, back into the mountains she knew so well, where the truck could not track it. He drove the truck straight ahead, picking up speed, and in a minute he was behind the mare. He drove to the left of the mare as the foal was running to her right. He noticed the mare's size and wondered if it was really a wild horse. He drove beside the mare, looking at the mare's flank with his eyes, trying to find a fire mark, but it seemed that the mare had never had a fire mark. Then, through his right car window, he saw the noose fly out and land on the mare's head. He also saw the mare's head raised high, and then moved back. He turned his head to the right, pressing the brake with his left boot, and saw the mare standing still dragging a tire. The free foal looked at the mare and trotted close beside her. With. So he drove straight ahead, across the flat bed of the lake, toward the two black spots, which quickly expanded until they became the two brown horses, which stood quietly watching the driver. The truck is coming. He drove the truck between them, and as they took off, Pers, who was standing on the left, lassoed one, and Guy lassoed the other almost at the same time. ([U.S.] Miller: "The Misfits" "Contemporary American Short Stories" p. 170) Good Paragraph: A famous paragraph describing "Funeral"

Holding the white paper with the word "Yin" The deacons of the Wu Mansion, wearing long black cloth coats and wearing a heavy, long and wide belt made of white cloth around their waists, walked from the gate to the mourning hall as if they were shuttling under the scorching sun. In front of the big living room, he rushed back to the dog door to "introduce" new visitors - all of them were sweating profusely from exhaustion. Before half past ten, the eight people in this class could sometimes sit with their buttocks pointed on the wooden bench next to the "drummer" at the gate for a minute or two, picking up the white cloth belt around their waists and wiping their faces. He was sweating, and replaced the fan with the white paper post with the word "Yin", took a breath, and complained that Mr. Wu San was unwilling to use more people. But when the poisonous sun shined directly above his head, the hanging guests came like a tide, and the crowd was full of people. The two groups of drummers at the door and in front of the mourning hall were playing without taking a breath. The deacons who "led" the way became like machines running back and forth. They didn't even have time to complain about Master Wu San. After thinking about it, I at least occasionally glanced at the six deacons serving in front of the mourning hall, and secretly envied their good luck.

The horn of the car, the flute, the suona, the gongs of the small class, the mixed "sorrow and music", the shouts of "tea is poured somewhere, soda is opened somewhere", the quarrels at the meal counter when the bus departs, The spies patrolling the gate drove away the crowds; the spicy smell of cigarettes and the stench of human sweat all merged into one, permeating the halls and rooms of Wu Mansion and the eight or nine acres of the garden. (Mao Dun: "Midnight" p. 31)

When the ceremony was held, I felt a kind of panic, a premonition of the future, and I couldn't stand any longer. Finally, the body was put into a coffin and nailed. Then the funeral attendants placed the coffin on the hearse and set off. I only escorted him through one street. When we got there, the driver suddenly started driving the car at full speed, and the old man ran after the hearse - crying loudly, but the running movement made the cry tremble every now and then. On and off. Then his hat fell off, and the poor old man didn't stop to pick it up, even though the rain was beating on his head, the wind was blowing, and the snow and rain stung and hit his face. He ran from one side of the hearse to another, as if he did not understand this cruel thing - the sides of his old coat were blown by the wind like a pair of wings. Each pocket of his clothes was bulging with books, and he held a particularly large book under his arm, which he held tightly to his chest. As the funeral procession passed by, passers-by took off their hats and made the sign of the cross on their chests. Some passers-by stopped and stared at the pitiful old man in astonishment. From time to time a book slipped out of his pocket and fell into the mud, so when someone stopped him and told him to pay attention to the fact that his book had fallen, he stopped, picked it up, and ran to follow the hearse. At a corner of the street, a ragged old woman followed him closely, until the hearse turned the corner, and I lost sight of her. ([Russian] Dostoevsky: "The Poor>> Pages 64-65)

Karatete's wife must not leave her husband alone in the grave. And the unfortunate woman herself did not want to live alone. This is a custom as well as a duty. Such instances of martyrdom are common in New Zealand's history. Karatete's wife appears. She is still very young. Her hair was tangled on her shoulders, and she was howling and choking, her wails shaking the sky. She cried and complained, imitating the living sounds of the vague lake. Her lingering mourning and intermittent sentences all praised the character of the deceased. When her grief reached the extreme, she lay down at the foot of the mound and beat her head on the ground. At this time, the bone-gnawing demon walked up to her. Suddenly the poor victim wanted to get up again, but the chief waved the "wooden hammer" - a terrible big mallet - in his hand and pushed him to the ground again. She was furious. ([French] Verne: "Captain Grant's Children" p. 664)

He glanced at the crowd surrounding the tomb. They were all policemen, all wearing civilian clothes and the same raincoat. The same straight black hat, umbrella held in the hand like a sword, these strange wakers, the wind blew them here from nowhere, their loyalty seems unreal. Behind them, in echelons, the municipal band, dressed in black and red uniforms, had been hastily summoned, trying desperately to protect their golden instruments under their coats. They just gathered around the coffin, which lay flat there, a wooden box without wreaths or flowers, but a place of warmth, buried in the endless raindrops, which beat in a monotonous tone. Splashing on the ground, always the same, never ending. The pastor had already finished reading. No one noticed. There is only rain here, and people only hear the sound of rain. The priest coughed, first once, then several times. Then the bass trumpet, the trumpet, the horn, the cornet, and the bass flute all sounded together, arrogant and majestic, and the instruments shone golden in the rain curtain, but they also sank, dissipated, and stopped. Everything is hidden under umbrellas and raincoats. The rain kept falling. Shoes got stuck in the mud, and rainwater formed streams into the empty tomb. ([Switzerland] Durhenmatt: "The Judge and His Executioner" p. 45)

Everything has been prepared for the funeral. The senators lowered the coffin beside the funeral pyre. Van Lelia walked up, closed the dead man's eyelids, and according to the custom of the time, stuffed a copper coin into the dead man's mouth so that he could pay Xinglong to use it as a boat to cross the rough Akelon River. money. Then the widow kissed the deceased on the lips, and exclaimed, as was the custom: "Farewell! We will follow you in the order of Providence.

"The musicians began to play mournful music. During the music, the devotees brought over many animals designated as sacrifices and killed them. Their blood was mixed with milk, honey and wine, and then sprinkled on the funeral pyres. After all this was done, the mourners began to pour sesame oil on the pyre, throw various spices, and pile countless laurel wreaths and wreaths on it, which not only covered the entire pyre, but also placed it on the pyre. The heap was thickly piled up all around, and a thunderous applause rolled across the Place de Mars in response to the tribute paid to the dead by the young triumphant and conquering marshal of Africa. A burst of flames suddenly burst out and spread rapidly. Drive away. Finally, the whole pyre emits countless winding tongues of fire, and is enveloped in clouds of fragrant smoke. ([It] Giovannioli, "Spartacus" 246. Page)

Tagore Das Mukherjee's elderly wife died after suffering from a high fever for seven days. Mr. Mukherjee Sr. had made a fortune in the grain business. Grandsons, granddaughters, sons-in-law, relatives, friends, and servants all came, and people from the village came in groups to watch the solemn and dignified funeral ceremony of the daughters. After crying, they applied a layer of rouge thickly on the soles of their mother's feet and put a streak of cinnabar on her middle-parted hair. The daughters-in-law applied sandalwood ointment on their mother-in-law's forehead. After wrapping herself in the expensive sari, she straightened her clothes, pulled the gauze shawl over her head low, and gave her mother-in-law a final foot-touching ceremony amid the colorful flowers, green leaves, and richness. Sandalwood, various flower garlands, and no trace of sadness can be detected in the noise - this seems to be a rich housewife disguised as a newlywed bride and setting off to her husband's house again after fifty years. The husband calmly said his final farewell to his wife, secretly wiped away two tears, and began to comfort his daughter and daughter-in-law who were crying sadly. "Hey! Hey!" The thunderous praise was shocking. Under the clear sky, people in the whole village set off with the funeral procession... The crematorium was on the beach by the river outside the village, where firewood, sandalwood chips, ghee, honey, rosin, etc. were used to burn the body. The sala resin... had already been prepared... When the corpse was placed on the large and grand funeral pyre... everyone shouted the holy name of "Hari" in unison, and the son took the Brahmin's hand. The torch purified by the priest's mantra lit the funeral fire... The fire in the son's hand. This is really not easy. It took husband, son, daughter, grandson and granddaughter, relatives, friends, servants - everything in the world, The old Brahmin woman was left in the blazing flames and ascended to heaven ([Indian] Chatterjee: "Oparji's Paradise", "Foreign Short Stories", Volume 2, pp. 462-463) Good paragraph: Describing "Sacrifice".

It was the Mid-Autumn Festival in August, and it was a dark night in the Milky Way. The jade dew was scattered, the flags were motionless, and the fight was silent. Jiang Wei led forty-nine people to guard him outside the tent. Kongming set up fragrant flower offerings in the tent, seven large lamps on the ground, forty-nine small lamps on the outside, and one zodiac lamp inside. Kong Ming paid his respects and said: "Liang was born in troubled times, Gan Lao Lin Quan, and because of Emperor Zhaolie's three thoughts and cares, he did not dare to work hard as a dog, and vowed to fight against the national traitors. Unexpectedly, the star was about to fall, and Yang's life was about to end. . I write with great care, and appeal to the heavens. I look down to the heaven for mercy, listen down, and make calculations with my ministers, so that I can report the kindness of the emperor, save the lives of the people, restore the old things, and pray for the Han Dynasty forever. It is really out of emotion. ." After paying homage, he prostrated himself in the tent and waited. (Luo Guanzhong: "The Romance of the Three Kingdoms" pp. 900-901)

The woman opened the door, and Wu Song asked the soldiers to arrange soup and rice. Wu Song lit lamps and candles and laid out wine and food in front of the funeral bed. After the second watch, the arrangement was correct, Wu Song turned over and bowed: "Brother's ghost is not far away! You were weak when you were alive, but after your death today, you will not be able to see clearly. If you have been wronged and were harmed, please tell me in your dream "Brother, I will take revenge for you." After pouring the wine and burning the paper money, he burst into tears, which made the neighbors on both sides panic. The woman was also pretending to cry inside. After Wu Song finished crying, he ate the rice, wine and food with the soldiers, begged for two mats and asked the soldiers to sleep next to the middle gate. Wu Song took a mat and slept in front of the spiritual bed. The woman went upstairs and went downstairs to sleep. (Shi Naian and Luo Guanzhong: "Water Margin" pages 320-321)

This is the year-end ceremony of Lu Town. It is a ceremony to pay tribute, welcome the God of Fortune, and pray for good luck in the coming year.

Killing chickens, butchering geese, buying pork, washing them carefully, the women's arms were red in the water, and some even wore twisted silver bracelets. After they are cooked, some chopsticks are inserted in various directions on such things, which is called "Fu Li". They are displayed at five o'clock, and incense and candles are lit to respectfully worship Zhu Yan, the God of Fortune. However, only men are allowed to worship. After worshiping, of course, we still set off firecrackers. It's like this every year, every family - as long as you can afford gifts and firecrackers - it will be the same this year. (Lu Xun; "Blessing" and "Wandering" page 2)

Religious feelings and past impressions, with respect for ancient sacrifices and the symbol of the protection of the pure white virgin, envelope this place. everything. The church built next to the inn, with leaves strewn on the steps, opened like a gloomy bay. The church was filled with incense, candlelight shone in the darkness, and the walls were covered with offerings from watermen. The fiancées of the disappeared watermen and the widows of the victims, beside some passionate girls, wearing slender black veils and small smooth headscarves, came out of the chapel of the dead, with their eyes lowered, quietly, as if Like a warning of darkness, passing through this noise of the world. And the sea not far away, which is always the great nurturer and great destroyer of these strong men, is also commotion, noisy, and participating in this grand event... ([French] Luo Ti: "Iceland Fisherman" page 29)