The Truth--a Hideous Spectacle!

I Always Hankered To Be A Composer - I Was Mad About Music, Though I Never Studied Seriously, And Can't Read A Note. But I Learned To Play The Piano And Became Pretty Skillful At Improvisation, Especially After A Drop Or Two.

I Ascend From Darkness And Depart On The Winds Of Space For I Know Not Where; My Watch Is Wound, A Key Is In My Pocket, And The Sky Is Darkened As I Descend The Stair.

The Hiss Was Now Becoming A Roar - The Whole World Was A Vast Moving Screen Of Snow - But Even Now It Said Peace, It Said Remoteness, It Said Cold, It Said Sleep.

I'm Not In The Least Southern; I'm Entirely New England.

You Know, Without My Telling You, How Sometimes A Word Or Name Eludes You, And You Seek It Through Running Ghosts Of Shadow -- Leaping At It, Lying In Wait For It To Spring Upon It, Spreading Faint Snares For It Of Sense Or Sound: Until, Of A Sudden, As If In A Phantom Forest, You Hear It, See It Flash Among The Branches, And Scarcely Knowing How, Suddenly Have It.