André Gide, Journals
(July 12, 1922), tr. Justin O'Brien:
This pine grove would be charming, which stretches out along the beach, which is broken up by dunes, and where cistus, lentiscuses, briers, and sallow-thorns form the underbrush. I never meet anyone here, but no god inhabits it either, since the trace of man has so profaned, disenchanted, soiled it. Everywhere old tin cans, rags, eggshells, nameless rubbish, greasy papers, turds, toilet-paper, broken bottles. Everywhere the image of selfishness, of overfamiliarity, and of gluttony.