"Heart of Darkness"
by Joseph Conrad

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     "Oh," said I, "that fellow -- what's his name? -- the brickmaker, will make a readable report for you." He appeared confounded for a moment. It seemed to me I had never breathed an atmosphere so vile, and I turned mentally to Kurtz for relief -- positively for relief.

     "Nevertheless I think Mr. Kurtz is a remarkable man," I said with emphasis.

     He started, dropped on me a heavy glance, said very quietly, "he was," and turned his back on me.


     My hour of favour was over; I found myself lumped along with Kurtz as a partisan of methods for which the time was not ripe: I was unsound! Ah! but it was something to have at least a choice of nightmares.

     I had turned to the wilderness really, not to Mr. Kurtz, who, I was ready to admit, was as good as buried.

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