My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye. Askance to watch the working of his lie. On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford. Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored. Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.
Robert BrowningAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: english
- Born: May 7, 1812
- Died: December 12, 1889
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I sat on the bed. I looked at the Rorschach blot. I tried to make it look like a spreading tree, shadows pooled beneath it, but it didn't. It looked more like a dead cat I once found, the fat, glistening grubs writhing blindly, squirming over each other, frantically tunneling away from the light. But even that isn't the real horror. The horror is this: in the end, it is simply a picture of empty meaningless blackness.
Alan Moore