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To
one
another
!
for
the
world
,
which
seems
To
lie
before
us
like
a
land
of
dreams
So
various
,
so
beautiful
,
so
new
,
Hath
really
neither
joy
,
nor
love
,
nor
light
,
Nor
certitude
,
nor
peace
,
nor
help
for
pain
;
And
we
are
here
as
on
a
darkling
plain
Swept
with
confused
alarms
of
struggle
and
flight
,
Where
ignorant
armies
clash
by
night
.
Mrs.
Phelps
was
crying
.
The
others
in
the
middle
of
the
desert
watched
her
crying
grow
very
loud
as
her
face
squeezed
itself
out
of
shape
.
They
sat
,
not
touching
her
,
bewildered
by
her
display
.
She
sobbed
uncontrollably
.
Montag
himself
was
stunned
and
shaken
.
