Afterwards I sat sewing. The cottage was so quiet that I realized how it must be when I`m not in it. The clock ticked in the back kitchen, the fire settled, the sun shone through the windows.
Magriad Evans.

from November Night.

Listen....
With faint dry sound,
Like steps of passing ghosts,
The leaves, frost-crisped, break from the trees
And fall.
Adelaide Crapsey.

Re'sume'.

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp;
Guns arent lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
Dorothy Parker.

There was a cold air like the wind from cherubs cheeks in the old maps, we shuddered off into the dusk, towards the beaded loops of soft yellow lights where the town straggled up its long hill to the church towers at the top.

Dust.

When the white flame in us is gone,
And we that lost the worlds delight,
Stiffen in darkness, left alone
To crumble in our separate night....
Rupert Brooke.

This southern slice of Tuscany, with its veins of vineyards, softly rolling hills, olive groves and medieval hill towns unchanged since the Renaissance.

Fade to Black.

Life it seems will fade away,
Drifting further everyday,
Getting lost within myself,
Nothing matters, no one else,
I have lost the will to live,
Simply nothing more to give,
There is nothing more for me,
Need the end to set me free.
Metallica.