Going down hill pushed him forward, going up hill pulled him backward, while uneven places in the road threw him from side to side, and the wind and the whip lashed him alternately.

The poor brute! I cannot think of him now without a certain feeling of remorse.
The road down hill is curved and its edges are covered with clumps of sea-rushes or large patches of a certain reddish moss.

To the right, on an eminence that starts from the bottom of the dale and swells in the middle like the carapace of a tortoise, one perceives high, unequal walls, the crumbling tops of which appear one above another.
One follows a hedge, climbs a path, and enters an open portal which has sunken into the ground to the depth of one third of its ogive.

The men who used to pass through it on horseback would be obliged to bend over their saddles in order to enter it to-day.

When the earth is tired of supporting a monument, it swells up underneath it, creeps up to it like a wave, and while the sky causes the top to crumble away, the ground obliterates the foundations.