Kate Chopin

“ Why must I drag myself thus like a wounded serpent, twisting and writhing?
The river is near at hand. I hear it -- I see it -- Oh! the sand! Oh! the shine! How cool! how cold!
The water! the water! In my eyes, my ears, my throat! It strangles me! Help! will the gods not help me?
Oh! the sweet rapture of rest! There is music in the Temple. And here is fruit to taste. Bardja came with the music -- The moon shines and the breeze is soft -- A garland of flowers -- let us go into the King's garden and look at the blue lily, Bardja.
The maple leaves looked as if a silvery shimmer enveloped them. ”

“ I took the cigarettes and crumpled them between my hands. I walked to the window and spread my palms wide. The light breeze caught up the golden threads and bore them writhing and dancing far out among the maple leaves. ”

“ MY friend, the Architect, who is something of a traveller, was showing us various curios which he had gathered during a visit to the Orient.
"Here is something for you," he said, picking up a small box and turning it over in his hand. "You are a cigarette-smoker; take this home with you. It was given to me in Cairo by a species of fakir, who fancied I had done him a good turn."
The box was covered with glazed, yellow paper, so skilfully gummed as to appear to be all one piece. It bore no label, no stamp -- nothing to indicate its contents.
"How do you know they are cigarettes?" ”