Maybe All The Schemes Of The Devil

Don't Mourn, Organise

She Liked Things That Had Been Written By People Who Had Lived Short, Ugly, And Tragic Lives. Or, Who At Least, Were English.

Pick A Sin We Can Both Live With, Is What I Ask.

If The Workers Took A Notion They Could Stop All Speeding Trains; Every Ship Upon The Ocean They Can Tie With Mighty Chains.

She Breathed Deeply Of The Scent Of Decaying Fiction, Disintegrating History, And Forgotten Verse, And She Observed For The First Time That A Room Full Of Books Smelled Like Dessert: A Sweet Snack Made Of Figs, Vanilla, Glue, And Cleverness.