Childhood Fear
Nothing But A Walking Shadow
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. Originally posted 2011-07-18 20:33:59. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
Read MoreUnbeing Dead Isn’t Being Alive
It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream Originally posted 2011-07-19 21:07:25. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
Read MoreThe Tyrrany Of The Advancing Red Death
THE “Red Death” had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal — the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour. Originally posted 2011-07-13 21:19:20. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
Read MoreEyes Opened To The Horrors Of The Unknown
Living is Easy with Eyes Closed. Originally posted 2011-07-26 22:08:23. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
Read MoreThat Which Cannot Remain Silent
There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they may solve only in part Originally posted 2011-07-23 07:50:31. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
Read MoreMore From The Mental Ward
