Westwards the gaze wanders. Eastwards skims the ship. Fresh the wind blows towards home. My Irish child, where are you now? Is it your wafting sighs that swell my sails? Blow, blow, you wind! Ah,...
From the Life of the Marionettes Prologue I'm tired. Now you will sleep. No. Come. Twenty hours after the murder, Mogens Jensen... professor of psychiatry, speaks to the head of the inquiry. I...