Good paragraphs: famous paragraphs describing "marriage"

He took out the chopsticks wrapped in red paper that he had hidden in his boots. He hesitated, his hands shaking slightly. He looked up. He was a little timid, but he had to muster up the courage to pick up the hijab on the bride's head. He actually picked up the veil and put it on the edge of the bed. A burst of powdery fragrance hit his nose. He raised his eyes and glanced furtively at the bride, his heart pounding. But he couldn't see anything clearly. There were only some shaking beads and a pink face in front of his eyes, but he didn't know what kind of face it was. He heard someone next to him whisper: "The bride is much taller." (Ba Jin: "Autumn" page 239)

She was sitting upright in a three-horse-drawn rubber pulley. She was wearing a red cotton jacket, blue satin cotton trousers underneath, and new shoes on her feet. He wore red satin embroidered shoes and a red velvet flower on his head. Behind him was a car with two trumpeters, four old men and two matchmakers. Red cloth strips were hung on the horse's bridle and the cart owner's whip. When the car entered Guo Quanhai's new home, the sky was getting dark and the sun was stuck in the mountains. The bride's car is parked outside the gate. The young ladies gathered around, and the women and men followed. They looked at Liu Guilan, who was wearing a red flower on her head and a red cotton-padded jacket, as if they had never recognized her before. Liu Guilan lowered her head and blushed. This red cotton-padded jacket was made from fruits. It turned out to be too fat. Liu Guilan spent a night changing it to fit perfectly. The women were talking about her appearance and dress... (Zhou Libo: "Storm" p. 460)

After a while, Mangu saw many torches in the distance, and there were often dark shadows of hands, taking oil from the dark jar, and then moved towards the torches. At the head of the wedding procession walked the best band in the district. Long silk strips floated on both drums, decorated with beads and shells; the copper tubes of the two flutes shone with golden light under the flickering light of the torches; the viena was uniquely decorated with dark yellow of tassels. Behind the band is a group of people on horseback. The beautiful feathers on their heads are as beautiful as peacocks in full bloom. The horseman's mustache was neatly trimmed, and the tips of his beard stood proudly upward. Those who were lagging behind struck their half-dead, skinny horses hard on the ribs with their heels, trying to make the horse dance, or at least raise its head, which always drooped and expressed dissatisfaction with everything. Several riders kicked their well-dressed and well-saddled horses. The horse jumped and almost fell off the saddle. They shouted a few times in an attempt to win the sympathy of the people around them. Immediately behind the cavalry, four elephants walked solemnly. Strings of small bells were tied to the elephants' heads, necks, chests and limbs, making sweet sounds. On the sedan chair set up on the back of the elephant, sat a group of beautiful country girls. They were shy and leaned closely against each other. The girls' cheeks were flushed, and the pendants hanging below their ears shone with all the colors of the rainbow. The gusts of wind blew away their shawls and headscarves, and they walked against the wind, just like fairies meeting their lovers in the human world and then flying back to the heaven in a hurry. ...At the end of the wedding procession were some soldiers on foot. Their clothes rustled and exuded a charming fragrance - in this area, the only gift a soldier could give to a girl and win their favor was perfume. ([Pakistan] Qasmi: "Theft" "Ai Na, Qaslai's Short Stories Collection" pp. 0-71)

Then came Peter's difficult day. Peter sat in the corner at the front of the room, knowing that his brows were furrowed, which he felt was not good and would make the bride look unhappy, but he could not relax his brows, as if they were sewn together with a hard thread. He frowned at the guests, shook his hair, and scattered hops on the table and on Natalia's veil. She also lowered her head and closed her eyes slightly tiredly. Her face was pale, she was as scared as a child, and her whole body was shaking with shame. "The wine is bitter" - some red, hairy faces, with protruding teeth, roared, already for the twentieth time. Peter turned around, like a wolf, without bending his neck, raised the veil, and touched her cheek with his dry lips and nose, feeling a coolness on her skin as if touching satin, and his shoulders were close to Trembling cords of fear.

He felt sorry for Natalia and felt ashamed, but the drinkers who were sitting in a circle shouted again: "The groom is not good at it" "Put it to your lips!" "Just ask me to kiss you..." The drunken woman's voice screamed: "I'll kiss you1" "The wine is bitter!" - Barsky shouted. Peter gritted his teeth and pressed his mouth to the bride's moist lips. Her lips were trembling. Her whole body was white and seemed to be melting, like clouds under the sun. They were both hungry and had not been given anything to eat since yesterday. Due to the panic in his mind and the strong smell of hops, Peter drank two glasses of foaming Qin Muliansky wine. He felt drunk and was afraid that the bride would notice it. Everything around him was shaken. A group of ugly faces formed red foam, which sometimes condensed into a pile of mottled colors, and sometimes scattered everywhere. The son looked at his father with an expression of pleading and anger. ([Su] Gorky: "The Housekeeper" pp. 22-23)

In order to marry the bride, four double carts were built. Many people gathered around the car in the yard of Melekhov's house, as if they were celebrating the New Year. Pietro sat next to Grigory. Talya sat opposite them, waving an embroidered handkerchief. Whenever the car reached a low-lying area or a high hill, the singing was interrupted. The red Cossack hatband, blue and cyan uniforms and suit bodices, sleeves tied with white handkerchiefs, women's embroidered headscarves made of rainbows, floral skirts, and dust-like tulle skirts are all in every car. Flying behind the car. This is the wedding procession. Several cars rumbled into the yard. Pietro led Grigory up the steps, and the other guests who had come with him for the wedding ceremony followed them. The door opened, and the matchmaker was Natalia's godmother, a beautiful widow. She bowed and greeted Pietro with a smile on her purple face. "Please have a drink, bestie, for Your health." She handed over a glass of cloudy, unfermented kvass. Pietro parted his beard, drank it, and hummed in suppressed laughter. While the best man was quarreling with the matchmaker, he followed the rules and toasted three glasses of vodka to the groom's family. Natalia had already put on her wedding dress and veil, and many people gathered around her at the table. Marishika held out a rolling pin in her hand, and Gripka was shaking a sowing sieve with dignity. The bride's relatives and family members who were sitting around the table stood up and made room. Pietro thrust the end of the handkerchief into Grigory's hand, jumped onto the bench, and led him around the table to the bride, who was seated under the icon. Natalia's heart was beating so hard that her hands were sweating. She held the other end of the handkerchief. When everyone had left the table, one of them leaned down and sprinkled a handful of millet into Grigory's boot: this was to prevent the groom from doing anything stupid. ([Su] Sholokhov: "The Quiet Don" pp. 120-125)

The ceremony was carried out in accordance with the law. The rabbi, wearing an old satin jacket, wrote the marriage contract and asked the bride and groom to touch his handkerchief as a sign of agreement. The rabbi wiped the nib of his pen on his cap again. Several porters held up the canopy (they were called from the street to make up the number). Dr. Fischelson put on a white robe, which reminded people of the day of his death, and Dobby followed the custom. As a rule, walk around him seven times. The light from the braided candle flickered on the wall, creating shadows. After pouring the wine into the chalice, the rabbi sang a blessing with a sad melody. Dobby only let out a cry. The other women took out their peach blossom handkerchiefs, held them in their hands, and stood making faces. ...Look, the time has come to put the wedding ring on the bride, but the groom's hands began to shake, and it took a lot of effort to put the ring on Dobby's index finger. According to custom, the next step was to break a wine glass, but Dr. Fischelson kicked it several times and still did not break the glass. The girls lowered their heads and happily pinched me and I pinched you, giggling. In the end, an apprentice crushed the wine glass with his heel. Even the rabbi couldn't help but smile.

([US] Singer, "Spinoza on Market Street" "Singer's Short Stories" pp. 42-43)

The groom danced energetically in the center of the room, one song after another. One song, non-stop until exhausted. Kadushka - how beautiful she is I - body. It was as soft as a snake; the flower crown on her head was loose and hung down on her face, but it even matched her style. Sometimes she breaks away from the groom's hand, shakes her legs, and starts dancing in front of the groom. Sometimes she spins like a whirlwind, causing the flower crown on her head to spin with it, causing the flower tips hanging from the flower crown to spin. Brushing it into the faces of those near her. She turned, turned, and then suddenly slipped into the dancing crowd. The groom followed her, sometimes catching up with her, sometimes letting her go. He jumped up like a goat, slapped his boots with both hands, then stretched out his hands as if to embrace her, and followed her. Running wildly after her, he sang as he ran: I am a great man, in my own farm, This beauty is my tulip. From time to time he would make the coins in his pocket clang, or he would take out two tallels and throw them high into the air, then reach out to catch them and throw them to some gypsy musicians. "Hey, Gypsy! This is not the final reward! Do you understand?" ([Dian] Mikshat; "Strange Marriage" pp. 261-282) Good paragraphs: famous paragraphs describing "labor"

At this time, the people were already the same as when they were charging in the war: some dropped their straw hats, some took off their shirts, and all the sickles were shining brightly, as if people were flying and sickles were flying. The wheat is also flying, and the wheat is flying. It seems that a whirlwind has arisen in the wheat field of Baiyangtao, blowing down the wheat piece by piece and blowing it into bundles. On the way from Baiyangtao to the village, there are ox carts, mule carts, and packs. , The burden is like running water in the wide place, like twisting rope in the narrow place, and the wheat stacks are piled up in piles on the wheat field near the village. (Zhao Shuli: "Old Quota" "Zhao Shuli's Selected Novels" pp. 423-424)

The 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 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. Clamped tightly... The carts were loaded one after another. They were filled to the brim and tall. The young man following the cart first threw the fork up from under the cart, and then people climbed up and lay down on the roof of the cart. , 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 roll of 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 spots 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 expressions of the harvesters, 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 on the 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 lake bed, towards the two black spots, which quickly expanded until they turned into the two brown horses, who stood there 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" "Collection of Contemporary American Short Stories" p. 170) Good Paragraphs: Famous paragraphs describing "funerals"

Hold the blank 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 hurried back to the dog door to "invite" 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, and I lost sight of her. ([Russian] Dostoyevsky: "The Poor" pp. 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 and a duty. Such instances of sacrificial 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 misty 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" page 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 in unison, 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 said loudly according to the custom: "Farewell! According to the order arranged by God, we will follow you." The musicians began to play mournful music, and the devotees were playing In the sound, many animals designated as sacrifices were brought and killed, their blood was mixed with milk, honey and wine, and then sprinkled around the funeral pyre. After all this was done, the mourners began to pour sesame oil on the pyre, throw in various spices, and pile countless laurel wreaths and wreaths on it. There were so many wreaths that they not only covered the entire pyre, but were also stacked thickly around the pyre. A thunderous ovation rolled across the Place de Mars in answer to the homage paid to the dead by the young triumphant and conquering marshal of Africa. A burst of flame suddenly burst out, and then spread quickly. Finally, the entire pyre emitted countless winding and fluttering tongues of flame, and was enveloped by bursts of cloud-like, fragrant smoke. ([It means] Giovannioli, "Spartacus" page 246)

The old wife of Tagore Mukherjee died after having a high fever for seven days. Mr. Mukherjee Sr. made a fortune in the grain business. His four sons, three daughters, grandchildren, son-in-law, relatives, friends, and servants all came here, and it was like a noisy celebration. People from the village also came in droves to witness this grand and dignified funeral ceremony. The daughters cried and smeared a thick layer of rouge on their mother's soles, and put a streak of cinnabar on her middle-parted hair. The daughters-in-law put sandalwood ointment on their mother-in-law's forehead and wrapped her mother-in-law in expensive saris. The final touch of the feet. Colorful flowers, green leaves, rich sandalwood, garlands of various colors, and no trace of sadness can be detected in the noise - this seems to be a wealthy housewife pretending to be a newlywed again after fifty years. The mother set off for her husband's house. Old Mr. Mukherjee 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. "Hari! Hari!" The thunderous chants shook the clear sky, and people in the whole village set off with the funeral procession... The crematorium was on the beach by the river outside the village. The firewood, sandalwood chips, ghee, honey, rosin, and sal resin needed to burn the corpse there have 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 held a torch purified by the Brahmin priest's mantra, The funeral fire was lit...the fire in the son's hand. This is really not easy. Leave your husband, son, daughter, grandchildren, relatives, friends, servants - everything in the world in the blazing flames, the old Brahmin. My wife has ascended to heaven. ([Indian] Chatterjee: "Oparji's Paradise" "Foreign Short Stories" Volume 2, pp. 462-463) Good paragraph: A famous paragraph describing "sacrifice"

It was August Mid-Autumn Festival is the night of the Milky Way, the jade dew is scattered, the flags are motionless, and the fighting is 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)