The Nervousness of Horror / Edgar Allan Poe
Sleep came not near my couch—while the hours waned and waned away. I struggled to reason off my nervousness which had dominion over me. I endeavoured to believe that much, if not all of what I felt, was due to the bewildering influence of the gloomy furniture of the room—of the dark and tattered […]
Posthumous Child/ Charles Dickens
I was a posthumous child. My father’s eyes had closed upon the light of this world six months, when mine opened on it. There is something strange to me, even now, in the reflection that he […]
