"Dear Lady of my thoughts, dear Lady Cunard, time turns all things into analogues and symbols, and in the course of the years I have come to think of you as an evening fountain under embosoming trees. The fountain murmurs, sings, exults; it welcomes every coming minute; and when the dusk deepens in the garden and the gallants enfold their ladies in ( Read more... )

The gray felt daylong dusk of winter skies ( Read more... )

"My Name ( Read more... )

William Dean Howells' assessment of the character of author and geologist Clarence King (1842-1901 ( Read more... )

From Ideograms in China, Gustaf Sobin's translation of Henri Michaux's prose poem ( Read more... )