The wind came steadily, like the rushing of a great cataract heard at a great distance, but the noises of the sea were continually changing, rising and falling, with the stupendous modulations of an orchestra played by giants.
"The Landing", from Spring Sowing (1924; New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1926) p. 70
He was a poor weak human being like themselves, a human soul, weak and helpless in suffering, shivering in the toils of the eternal struggle of the human soul with pain.
The Informer (1925; London: New English Library, 1971) p. 139
I was born on a storm-swept rock and hate the soft growth of sun-baked lands where there is no frost in men's bones.
Joseph Conrad: An Appreciation (1930; New York: Haskell House, 1973) p. 11