Erich Maria Remarque. The hour (№ 197885)

The blood rushed into her head; all barriers have fallen, collapsed, crashed, gone, forgotten. The blood throbbed in his temples, spreading, spreading all over her body, awakening a primal animal passion. The road in the ghostly moonlight seemed sleepy artery through which flowed the silvery blood; it seemed, curled up into a ball future, heavy, like a honeycomb, hiding behind the rocks at the turn. The world was like unblown Bud of a Lotus, one blow and he will be revealed.