Wherever you look their forms are multiplied with a stupefying repetition.

They seem to have some mysterious secret to convey to one another, but have perforce to remain silent, and for all the expressiveness of their attitudes their hands do not move.

And hieroglyphs, too, repeated to infinity, envelop you on all sides like a multiple woof of mystery.
***** Minute by minute now, everything amongst these rigid dead things grows more precise.

Cold, hard rays penetrate through the immense ruin, separating with a sharp incisiveness the light from the shadows.
The feeling that these stones, wearied as they were with their long duration, might still be thoughtful, still mindful of their past, grows less--less than it was a few moments before, far less than during the preceding blue phantasmagoria.

Under this clear, pale light, as in the daytime, under the fire of the sun, Thebes has lost for the moment whatever remained to it of soul; it has receded farther into the backward of time, and appears now nothing more than a vast gigantic fossil that excites only our wonder and our fear.
***** But the tourists will soon be here, attracted by the moon.