There is great power in the stop of breath.
There's too great truth in what the dumb thing saith,
Hate never goes so far as that, nor can.
'I am what life becomes. D'you hate me, man?'
Hate with his babbling instant, red and damning,
Passed with his instant, having drunken red.
'You've killed him.'
'No, I've not, he's only shamming.
Get up.' 'He can't.' 'O God, he isn't dead.'
'O God.' 'Here. Get a basin. Bathe his head.