From Portrait of the Artist--golden prose

"Rain was falling on the chapel, on the garden, on the college. It would rain forever, noiselessly. The water would rise inch by inch, covering the grass and shrubs, covering the trees and houses, covering the monuments and the mountain tops.  All life would be choked off, noiselessly:  birds, men, elephants, pigs, children: noiselessly floating corpses among the litter of the wreckage of the world. Forty days and forty nights the rain would fall until the waters covered the face of the earth.
 It might be.  Why not?"