He went, ever on the move, with the slow, shuffling step of wandering beggars who are nowhere at home. — Stijn Streuvels
Not a living thing was to be seen and the cottages that sat huddled close to the ground remained fast shut — Stijn Streuvels
After a sound drubbing followed by half a day’s fasting, I felt more like laughing than like crying — Stijn Streuvels