There is naked Nature,—inhumanly sincere, wasting no thought on man, nibbling at the cliffy shore where gulls wheel amid the spray.
Print my preface in such form as, in the booksellers' phrase, will make a sixpenny touch.
It distantly resembled human beings, but for pure, unadulterated zeroism—well, as it was the Record picture, you might be moved to remark that the Photographer was representing the soul.
At Ping Tung, a professional geomancer checks the alignment of a grave, to ensure that ancestors will rest happily
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