Of all the bewildering things about a new country, the absence of human landmarks is one of the most depressing and disheartening.

There was nothing but land; not a country at all, but the material out of which countries are made.

Isn't it queer: there are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before; like the larks in this country that have been singing the same five notes over for thousands of years

Merely having seen the season change in a country gave one the sense of having been there for a long time.

In a few hours one could cover that incalculable distance; from the winter country and homely neighbours, to the city where the air trembled like a tuning-fork with unimaginable possibilities.