A man may take care of a furnace for twenty-five years and still forget to duck his head when he starts going down the cellar stai...rs.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
What the hammer?What the chain? In what furnace was thy brain?... What the anvil?What dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp?LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The narcissus has copied the arch of your slight breast:... your feet are citron-flowers, your knees, cut from white-ash, your thighs are rock-cistus.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Thoth, Hermes, the stylus, the palette, the pen, the quill endure,... though our books are a floor of smouldering ash under our feet.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
On Thursday morning going through the quiet woods... it is not Thursday. To dwellers in a wood almost every species of tree has its voice as well as its feature. At the passing of the breeze the fir-trees sob and moan no less distinctly than they rock; the holly whistles as it battles with itself; the ash hisses amid its quiverings; the beech rustles while its flat boughs rise and fall. And winter, which modifies the note of such trees as shed their leaves, does not destroy its individuality.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »