A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays And confident tomorrows.

Wild is the music of the autumnal wind Among the faded woods.

As thou these ashes, little brook! will bear Into the Avon, Avon to the tide Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas, Into main ocean they, this deed accurst, An …

Spires whose 'silent finger points to heaven.'

She was a young person whose reveries never were in retrospect. For her past was no treasury of distinct memories, all hoarded and classified, some brighter th…

E o abade pancudo que a tardinha, a varanda, palita o dente furado saboreando o seu cafe com um ar paterno, traz dentro em si os indistintos restos dum Torquem…

I'm always fascinated by the way memory diffuses fact.