Each Day I Live In A Glass

[peake's Books] Are Actual Additions To Life; They Give, Like Certain Rare Dreams, Sensations We Never Had Before, And Enlarge Our Conception Of The Range Of Possible Experience.

Noon, Ripe As Thunder And Silent As Thought, Had Fled Unfingered.

His Was Not The Hatred That Arises Suddenly Like A Storm And As Suddenly Abates. It Was, Once The Initial Shock Of Anger And Pain Was Over, A Calculated Thing That Grew In A Bloodless Way.

Mount And Begone. The World Awaits You.

The Moon Slid Inexorably Into Its Zenith, The Shadows Shrivelling To The Feet Of All That Cast Them, And As Rantel Approached The Hollow At The Hem Of The Twisted Woods He Was Treading In A Pool Of His Own Midnight.