"Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live"
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The storm lashes us, out of the confusion of grey and yellow the hail of splinters whips forth the child-like cries of the wounded, and in the night shattered life groans painfully into silence. Our hands are earth, our bodies clay and our eyes pools of rain. We do not know whether we still live” (Remarque 286-287).
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