The plants filled the place, a forest of them, with nasty meaty leaves and stalks like the newly washed fingers of dead men.

It was about eleven o'clock in the morning, mid October, with the sun not shining and a look of hard wet rain in the clearness of the foothills. I was wearing …

A few locks of dry white hair clung to his scalp, like wild flowers fighting for life on a bare rock.

By the way, would you convey my compliments to the purist who reads your proofs and tell him or her that I write in a sort of broken-down patois which is somet…

'..for the dead fish was striped like a cat and the sky was striped like the fish and the conch was whorled like an ear and the beach was ribbed like a dog's m…

And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view.

The proprietor had hair so red that pigmentation had flowed out into every visible inch of his skin and even into the pinks of his eyes, as the colour of flowe…