Strange TypeI wrote: in the dark cavern of our birth. The printer had it tavern, which seems better: But herein lies the subject of our mirth, Since on the next page death appears as dearth. So it may...
Somebody threw a dead dog after him down the ravine.
SCARED TO DEATH In Arizona, a 1000-acre forest of junipers suddenly withered and died. Foresters are unable to explain it, but the Indians say the trees died of fear but they are not in agreement as t...
Nothing is altered and in spite of God’s mercy I am still alone. Though my suffering seems senseless I am still in agony. There is no explanation of my life. Indeed there was not, nor was this what he...
Not that it was not a nightmare. It was, but of a very special kind he was scarcely old enough to appreciate.
Night: and once again, the nightly grapple with death, the room shaking with daemonic orchestras, the snatches of fearful sleep, the voices outside the window, my name being continually repeated with...
They were the cars at the fair that were whirling around her; no, they were the planets, while the sun stood, burning and spinning and guttering in the centre; here they came again, Mercury, Venus, Ea...
To say nothing of what you lose, lose, lose, are losing, man. You fool, you stupid fool ... You've even been insulated from the responsibility of genuine suffering ... Even the suffering you do endure...
Black Flowers is the name of that song. Cervantes was about to beckon the man to come in. It say:—I suffer, because your lips say only lies and they have death in a kiss.
The dead. Do they sleep? Why should they, when we cannot?
But who could agree with someone who was so certain you were going to be sober the day after tomorrow?
Indeed, on the face of it, this man of abnormal strength and constitution and obscure ambition, whom Hugh would never know, could never deliver nor make agreement to God for, but in his way loved and...
To-night, as ages hence, people would say this, or shut their doors on them, turn in bereaved agony from them, or toward them with love saying: That is our star up there, yours and mine; steer by them...
For with another part of his mind he felt the encroachment of a chilling fear, eclipsing all other feelings, that the thing they wanted was coming for him alone, before he was ready for it; it was a f...
How, unless you drink as I do, could you hope to understand the beauty of an old Indian woman playing dominoes with a chicken?
Hell, he finished absurdly. Because— He produced a twenty-peso note and laid it on the table. I like it, he called to them, through the open window, from outside. Cervantes stood behind the bar, with...
Perhaps his tragedy is that he is the only normal writer left on earth -- and it is this that adds to his isolation and so too his so sense of guilt.
¿Le gusta este jardín, que es suyo? ¡Evite que sus hijos lo destruyan!
British Columbia, the genteel Siberia, that was neither genteel nor a Siberia, but an undiscovered, perhaps an undiscoverable Paradise
When I should have been producing obscure volumes of verse entitled the Triumph of Humpty Dumpty or the Nose with the Luminous Dong! Or at best, like Clare, weaving fearful vision ... A frustrated poe...
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