The blackout curtains were drawn—it was night, I mean—though dawnshould have come. Beeches, maples, the dying horse-chestnuts, all had surrenderedto the general fall, like men to a cause notunderstood. Sacrifice I do not understand in the general sense. It had been a weekof the feathery rainthe trees were gluttons for—not punishment, but history. The passing […]
Source : Burke on Principle
