Joseph Conrad

It was the still­ness of an im­pla­ca­ble force brood­ing over an in­scrutable in­ten­tion. It looked at you with a venge­ful as­pect.

in­ter­lop­ers

The fas­ci­na­tion of the abom­i­na­tion—you know, imag­ine the grow­ing re­grets, the long­ing to es­cape, the pow­er­less dis­gust, the sur­ren­der, the hate.”

it fas­ci­nated me as a snake would a bird—a silly lit­tle bird.

som­nam­bu­list

sen­ten­tiously

pro­jec­tile

They were dy­ing slowly—it was very clear. They were not en­e­mies, they were not crim­i­nals, they were noth­ing earthly now—noth­ing but black shad­ows of dis­ease and star­va­tion, ly­ing con­fus­edly in the green­ish gloom.

pro­pi­tia­tory

The snake had charmed me.