There must be some new pipe, I thought, for these could not have been stolen from any known mine.
After that I sat on the floor again and looked at the water.

It exercised a mesmeric influence on me, soothing all care.

I was quite happy to wait for death, for death had no meaning to me.

My hate and fury were both lulled into a trance, since the passive is the next stage to the overwrought.
It must have been full day outside now, for the funnel was bright with sunshine, and even the dim cave caught a reflected radiance.

As I watched the river I saw a bird flash downward, skimming the water.