We can't go on till we've stormed it and beaten it down--or added our bodies to it.

If it isn't beaten down it will rise to heaven itself and shut it out--and that will be the end of the world." He shook his head in sudden defiant bitterness.

"If it can't be beaten down, better the world _should_ come to an end." Robin put out her hand and caught his sleeve.
"It will be beaten down," she cried.

"You--_you_--and others like you--" "It will be," he said.

"And it's because, when men read the day's news, almost every single one of them feels something leaping up in him that seems strong enough to batter it to earth single-handed." But he gently put out his own hand and took in it the slim gloved one and looked down at it, as if it were something quite apart and wonderful--rather as if hands were rare and he had not often seen one before.
There was much sound of heavy traffic on the streets.