I Should Never Deem A Man Of

The Artist Must Possess The Courageous Soul That Dares And Defies

It Was Still Quite Light Out Of Doors, But Inside With The Curtains Drawn And The Smouldering Fire Sending Out A Dim, Uncertain Glow, The Room Was Full Of Deep Shadows.

The Voice Of The Sea Is Seductive, Never Ceasing, Whispering, Clamoring, Murmuring, Inviting The Soul To Wander In Abysses Of Solitude.

She Was Moved By A Kind Of Commiseration... A Pity For That Colorless Existence Which Never Uplifted Its Possessor Beyond The Region Of Blind Contentment, In Which No Moment Of Anguish Ever Visited Her Soul, In Which She Would Never Have The Taste Of Life's Delirium.

A Bird With A Broken Wing Was Beating The Air Above, Reeling, Fluttering, Circling Disabled, Down, Down To The Water