—Her screaming is more like the roar of a wild beast.
—You feel the night in it.
—You feel the boundless black forest and hopelessness and terror.
—You feel solitude and grief. There are other people with her. Why can't you hear other voices beside that savage, dismal wail?
—They are talking, but you can't hear them. Have you ever noticed how solitary man's cries are? Any number of men will talk, and you won't hear them. But let one human being cry, and it seems as if the others were all silent, listening.
—I once heard a man scream who had been run over by a Carriage and had his leg crushed. The street was full of people. Yet he seemed to be the only one there.
—But this is more terrible.
—Say rather it is louder.
—I should say it is more prolonged.
—No, it's more terrible. You feel death in it.