Friday, April 20, 2018

Bartleby, the Scribbler


"So," he smiled, "correct me if I'm wrong..."

"Oh, brother!" I interjected, "That's bound to be a never-ending job!"

"But," he continued unperturbed, "didn't Poe want to have his own magazine?"

Autumn Winds

They walked together in the twilight, arm in arm, down the boulevard and onto the bridge. She had never felt so happy. She glanced up at him...