Envy not! for thou wilt wear / In the dark a shroud as fair; / Golden with the sunny ray / Thou withdrawest from my day; […]

Tirelessly swimming through de Quincy’s ‘department of impassioned prose,’ either in splendiloquent support of some new work or in dismissal of its shortcomings, is vouchsafed to few reviewers.

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He's the best when it comes to detective fiction.