First the light, then… The points of life. And many days in A long chain crawling,Jumping and laughing To no end. Nothing known butThe present moment. Then an invisible hand Turns the light off. All is forgotten.
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Chapter One
The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which… Continue reading Chapter One
Chapter Two
“Oh, I can’t explain. When I like people immensely, I never tell their names to any one. It is like surrendering a part of them. I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvellous to us. The commonest thing is delightful if one… Continue reading Chapter Two
Poetry and Fiction 