He trained his ear back again to the darkness, to the depth of it. What he felt, when his mind had slowed sufficiently for him
At the foot of the bed was a heap of boxes sealed with brown tape. There was a large white label on each lid, and
They are such thin things, these lives of ours; cheap got, cheap lost, mere flickers against the ever dark, brief shadows on a wall. This
I read Oscar Wilde: The Unrepentant Years in great anticipation. The author, Nicholas Frankel, is the editor of The Picture of Dorian Gray: An Annotated,
Oh no. Don’t mix Interesting Literature’s Lives of Victorian Writers Told in Limericks with commuting; before you know it, you’ll be thinking in limericks yourself.
Susan Wyndham’s Undercover column in The Sydney Morning Herald has drawn my attention to Pages and Pages’ Kindle amnesty. (Pages and Pages is an independent