You Might, From Your Appearance, Be The

When We Came Within Sight Of The Sea, The Waves On The Horizon, Caught At Intervals Above The Rolling Abyss, Were Like Glimpses Of Another Shore With Towers And Buildings.

Prowling About The Rooms, Sitting Down, Getting Up, Stirring The Fire, Looking Out The Window, Teasing My Hair, Sitting Down To Write, Writing Nothing, Writing Something And Tearing It Up...

Perhaps Second-hand Cares, Like Second-hand Clothes, Come Easily Off And On.

There Are Only Two Styles Of Portrait Painting; The Serious And The Smirk.

As The Gloom And Shadow Thickened Behind Him, In That Place Where It Had Been Gathering So Darkly, It Took, By Slow Degrees, - Or Out Of It There Came, By Some Unreal, Unsubstantial Process - Not To Be Traced By Any Human Sense, - An Awful Likeness Of Himself!