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 MoreThe boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins? Originally posted 2011-07-20 21:51:04. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
Read MoreChoking with dry tears and raging, raging, raging at the absolute indifference of nature and the world to the death of love, the death of hope and the death of beauty Originally posted 2011-08-09 19:17:45. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
Read MoreBeauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears. Originally posted 2011-07-22 07:41:56. Republished by Blog Post Promoter
Read MoreTo-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 More