Horst passed him a bottle he had picked up in his rapid trip from there to here. Remarkably, it’s contents had survived the transit. “Drink this,” he said, unmoved by Cabal’s anger. “You need to...

Now she has power and passion and the struggle has significance for me-let the momentary consequences be what they may. Suppose that in her pride she becomes giddy, suppose that she does break with me-all...

I shall be your poet! I do not want to be a poet for others; make your appearance, and I shall be your poet. I shall eat my own poem, and that will be my...

He who does not know how to encircle a girl so that she loses sight of everything he does not want her to see, he who does not know how to poetize himself into a...

Not entirely fair?” His voice became that of the inferno: a rushing, booming howl of icy evil that flew around the great cavern, as swift and cold as the Wendigo on skates. “I am Satan,...