On and on he wandered, and came out upon the sea-shore, on the barren rocks where the fierce light struck down, and the water moaned its low, perpetual wail of unrest. "Ah!" he said; "the sea will be more merciful; it, too, is wearied unto death and cannot sleep."Then Arthur rose up from the deep, and cried aloud:"This sea is mine!
-Ethel Lilian Voynich
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