Something To Remember, That: Cats For Missiles.

Mervyn Peake Is A Finer Poet Than Edgar Allan Poe, And He Is Therefore Able To Maintain His World Of Fantasy Brilliantly Through Three Novels. It (gormenghast Trilogy) Is A Very, Very Great Work ... A Classic Of Our Age.

And Now, My Poor Old Woman, Why Are You Crying So Bitterly? It Is Autumn. The Leaves Are Falling From The Trees Like Burning Tears- The Wind Howls. Why Must You Mimic Them?

Life Is Too Fleet For Onomatopoeia.

Through Her, In Microcosm, The Wide Earth Sobbed. The Starglobe Sank In Her; The Colours Faded. The Death-dew Rose And The Wild Birds In Her Breast Climbed To Her Throat And Gathered Songless, Hovering, All Tumult, Wing To Wing, So Ardent For Those Climes Where All Things End.

The Earth Swirls Down Through The Ominous Moons Of Preconsidered Generations.