Mariano Azuela,
The Underdogs: A Novel of the Mexican Revolution
“ The soldiers sang, laughed, and chattered away. The spirit of nomadic tribes stirred their souls. What matters it whether you go and whence you come? All that matters is to walk, to walk endlessly, without ever stopping; to possess the valley, the heights of the sierra, far as the eye can read. Trees, brush, and cactus shone fresh after rain. Heavy drops of limpid water fell from rocks, ocher in hue as rusty armor. Demetrio Macias' men grew silent for a moment. They believed they heard the familiar rumor of firing in the distance. ”
