The foresaid Bridge by a mightie tempest was injointed and broken.

We stayed at a traditional onsen with tatami, yukata, and kaiseki at Onyang outside Seoul.

With an effort I strove to undazzle my sense, and with my heart as much as with my lips I murmured, “Murder!” And it seemed to me as if it were he who murmured it, not I—or at least that our two beings murmured it as one.

the many zigzaggings of the staircase