The terraces covered much of the hillside… I asked Cruso how many stones had gone into the walls. A hundred thousand or more, he replied. A mighty labour, I remarked… "And what will you be planting, when you plant?" I asked. "The planting is not for us," said he. "We have nothing to plant – that is our misfortune." And he looked at me with such sorry dignity, I could have bit my tongue. "The planting is reserved for those who come after us and have the foresight to bring seed. I only clear the ground for them. Clearing ground and piling stones is little enough, but it is better than sitting in idleness." And then, with great earnestness, he went on: "I ask you to remember, not every man who bears the mark of the castaway is a castaway at heart."

Foe by J. M. Coetzee (p. 28), ISBN 978-0-14-009623-1