There was now a distinct manifestation of morning in the air, and presently the bleared white visage of a sunless winter day emerged like a dead-born… - Thomas Hardy

All things merge in one another - good into evil, generosity into justice, religion into politics...

Oak had nothing finished and ready to say as yet, and not being able to frame love phrases which end where they begin; passionate tales — — Full of sound and fury — signifying nothing — he said no word at all.

He had sunk from his modest elevation as pastoral king into the very slime pits of Siddim; but there was left to him a dignified calm he had never before known, and that indifference to fate which, though it often makes a villain of a man, is the basis of his sublimity when it does not. And thus the abasement had been exaltation, and the loss gain.