“Worthy of my undying regard.”...

To Borys and All Others Who Like Himself Have Crossed in Early Youth the Shadow-Line of Their Generation with Love...

This story, which I admit to be in its brevity a fairly complex piece of work, was not intended to touch on the supernatural. Yet more than one critic has been inclined to take it in that way, seeing ...

“⁠—D’autres fois, calme plat, grand miroir De mon désespoir?” Baudelaire...

Only the young have such moments. I don’t mean the very young. No. The very young have, properly speaking, no moments. It is the privilege of early youth to live in advance of its days in all the beau...

He shook hands with me: “Well, there you are, on your own, appointed officially under my responsibility.” He was actually walking with me to the door. What a distance off it seemed! I moved like a man...

The first thing I saw down there was the upper part of a man’s body projecting backward, as it were, from one of the doors at the foot of the stairs. His eyes looked at me very wide and still. In one ...

With her anchor at the bow and clothed in canvas to her very trucks, my command seemed to stand as motionless as a model ship set on the gleams and shadows of polished marble. It was impossible to dis...

I heard the clatter of the scissors escaping from his hand, noted the perilous heave of his whole person over the edge of the bunk after them, and then, returning to my first purpose, pursued my cours...

As we all went up it occurred to me that there ought to be a man at the helm. I raised my voice not much above a whisper, and, noiselessly, an uncomplaining spirit in a fever-wasted body appeared in t...