Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           SherememberedthedaysofheryounggirlhoodpassedonafarmineasternOhio—fivehundredacres,neatlypartitionedintothewaterlot,thecowpasture,thecornlot,thebarleyfield,andwheatfarm;cosey,comfortable,home-like;wherethefarmerslovedtheirland,caressingit,coaxingit,nourishingitasthoughitwereathingalmostconscious;wheretheseedwassownbyhand,andasingletwo-horseploughwassufficientfortheentirefarm;wherethescythesufficedtocuttheharvestandthegrainwasthrashedwithflails.

           Butthisneworderofthings—aranchboundedonlybythehorizons,where,asfarasonecouldsee,tothenorth,totheeast,tothesouthandtothewest,wasalloneholding,aprincipalityruledwithironandsteam,bulliedintoayieldofthreehundredandfiftythousandbushels,whereevenwhenthelandwasresting,unploughed,unharrowed,andunsown,thewheatcameup—troubledher,andevenattimesfilledherwithanundefinableterror.Tohermindtherewassomethinginordinateaboutitall;somethingalmostunnatural.Thedirectbrutalityoftenthousandacresofwheat,nothingbutwheatasfarastheeyecouldsee,stunnedheralittle.Theone-timewriting-teacherofayoungladies’seminary,withherprettydeer-likeeyesanddelicatefingers,shrankfromit.Shedidnotwanttolookatsomuchwheat.Therewassomethingvaguelyindecentinthesight,thisfoodofthepeople,thiselementalforce,thisbasicenergy,welteringhereunderthesuninalltheunconsciousnakednessofasprawling,primordialTitan.