As he looked back and thought of the recurrent seasons falling upon the world it seemed to him that they had come to the count, over and over, of Hard Times, Hard Times, Hard Times, more monotonous, more unending, than the count of the soldiers, muttering as they marched, years before, in the town which had before been called only the crossroads.
1930, John Donald Wade, The Life and Death of Cousin Lucius; republished as Donald Davidson, editor, Selected Essays and Other Writings of John Donald Wade, 1966, page 26