““Look north. Achilles on the rampart by the ditch: He lifts his face to 90; draws his breath; And from the bottom of his heart emits So long and loud and terrible a scream, The icy scabs at either end of earth Winced in their sleep; and in the heads that fought It seemed as if, and through his voice alone, The whole world's woe could be abandoned to the sky. An in that instant all the fighting glassed.””
