The comrades tapped and tapped. Buried like moles beneath the crushing weight of the earth, and without a breath of fresh air in their burning lungs, they simply went on tapping. New men were starting into life, a black army of vengence slowly germinating in the furrows, growing for the harvest of the centuries to come; and soon this germination would tear the earth apart.
--Emile Zola, Germinal (1885)
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