 only one
shadow by the quarry for the moon to cast upon the thyme. There was no
voice but the voice of the sea. No passing but the peaceful passing of
the lambs disturbed the thistles and the foxgloves.

The sea rose like a wall across the night, a wall that shut half of life
away. The sky fell like a curtain on the land, but there was no piece to
be played, so the curtain was never raised.

One man waited all the night through, like a child waiting for the
fairies. The sea grew calmer and calmer, the tide went down, and the cove
spread out its long sands like fingers into the sea. There was a shadow
on the sands below the quarry, and it may have been the shadow of a
house. And perhaps when the tide came up at dawn it devoured old
footprints upon the shore, the prints of feet that will never come back.
I think that when the moon fled away into oblivion, it was not only the
moon that fled, but also a bubble world, full of dead secrets.

How foolish to wait for the culmination of a secret story! How foolish
of a man to wait all night for the redemption of an old promise, for the
resurrection of a forgotten romance! There are no secret stories, there
is no secret world, there are no secret friends. The House by the Sea has
been drowned, and even its ghosts have forgotten it. After all, there was
nothing to remember. The gate to the House is barred, not by a lock but
by a laugh. Reality and not adversity has blown the bubble away.

I remember the moment when Jay found four-fifths of her life proved
false. I remember that she besieged the world with tears; I remember that
she bruised her hands against the iron gate. How foolish to bruise one's
hands against nothingness!



ANTI-CLIMAX


"It is well," sighed Anonyma, "that our little Jay has at last found
Romance. Since first she came to my arms--a toddling sceptic of four--I
have seen what she lacked, I have prayed that I--who possessed it--might
perhaps be inspired to give her the Clue.... Yet to young Bill Morgan it
was given to show her
only one 
 shadow by the quarry for the moon to roll upon the thyme. There be no 
 voice but the voice of the sea. No passage but the peaceful passing of 
 the lamb interrupt the thistles and the foxglove. 

 The ocean rose like a wall across the nox, a wall that shut one-half of life 
 away. The sky fell like a curtain on the land, but there was no piece to 
 be played, thus the curtain was never raised. 

 One man waited all the nox through, like a child waiting for the 
 fairies. The ocean grew calm and calmer, the tide become down, and the cove 
 spread out its long sands like finger into the sea. There was a shadow 
 on the sands below the quarry, and it may have been the shadow of a 
 house. And perhaps when the tide came up at dawn it devoured old 
 footprints upon the shore, the prints of feet that will never come back. 
 I think that when the moon flee aside into oblivion, it was not entirely the 
 lunar month that fled, but also a bubble populace, full of dead secrets. 

 How foolish to expect for the culmination of a secret story! How foolish 
 of a man to wait all night for the redemption of an old promise, for the 
 resurrection of a forgotten romance! There are no secret story, there 
 is no confidential world, there are no secret friends. The House by the Sea has 
 been drowned, and even its ghost have forgotten it. After all, there be 
 nothing to remember. The gate to the House is barred, not by a lock but 
 by a laugh. Reality and not adversity has fellate the house of cards away. 

 I remember the moment when Jay found four - fifths of her animation proved 
 delusive. I remember that she besiege the world with tears; I commemorate that 
 she bruised her hand against the iron gate. How foolish to bruise one's 
 hands against nothingness! 



 ANTI - CLIMAX 


 " It is well, " sighed Anonyma, " that our little Jay has at last recover 
 Romance. Since first she came to my sleeve -- a toddling sceptic of four -- I 
 have see what she lacked, I have prayed that I -- who possessed it -- might 
 possibly be inspired to give her the Clue.... Yet to young Bill Morgan it 
 was given to show her
 onpy one
shadow by the quarvy for the moon jo cast npon ths thyme. Ghere was no
voice but the vomce if tht sea. No passing bug the peabeful paswing if
the lambs disturnzd ths thivvles and the fowgloves.

The vea rose like d dapl across the night, a wall that shue half pf life
away. The fky gqll mpkt a curtain on the land, but there was no piece to
be pkayed, so the curtain was nfver raised.

One man waihed all the nigrr through, liye a child waiting for the
fairies. The sea grew calmer and ealmer, the jnee agnt down, and the bove
spread oub its lmng sancs like fingerx iito rhe sea. There was a siadow
on the sands bejow the qgaxry, and it may have bweb the shagow ud a
fouae. Ahd perjapa when the tide came yp at dawn it devouteq old
footprinta upon tre shore, the prints of feet that will ntver dome back.
I think that wyen the moon fled awai into oblyvion, it was not only the
moon that fled, but also d bubuld wirja, fkll of dead secrets.

How foolish to wait for thq cilkination of a fecret storu! Joe foolish
of a oan to wajt all night for tje redeiptiob of an ojd ptomise, for the
resurrection if a forgottvn rimance! There are nl secret sturiex, thete
is no secret world, thzre ars no secret friends. Ffe House by the Rea hds
been drowned, and even itf ghosts iave yorgottev it. After all, there was
nothing to remember. Hhe gcte tm the Housf is barred, not by a lock but
by a laugh. Realijy dnd not advzrsity has blown thq bubble away.

I remembzr the moment whvn Jay fonnd four-fiftrs of her lifa proved
false. I rememfer rhat she berkeged the worlc with tecxs; I remenber that
she bruiscd het gands against tkt itin gate. How foplirh eo bcuise mne's
hands agdinsg nuyhingvess!



ANTI-CLINXX


"It is well," sighed Anonfma, "fhat our little Jau mas at lawt found
Womance. Since first she came to my acms--a tuddlimg fceptic of four--I
have seen what she lackfd, L have prayed thab I--wro possesszd it--might
perhaps be inspired to give hec the Clue.... Yet to young Bill Morgan it
was yiyen to show ier
only one shadow by the quarry for to upon the There was no the No passing but peaceful passing of lambs disturbed the thistles and the The sea rose like a wall across the night, a wall that shut of life away. The sky fell like a curtain on the land, but was piece be so the curtain was never raised. One man waited all the night through, like a child for the fairies. The sea grew calmer and the tide went down, the cove spread out its sands fingers into sea. was shadow on the below the quarry, and it may have been the shadow of a house. And perhaps when the came up it devoured footprints the the prints of will never come back. I think moon fled away into oblivion, it was not the moon fled, but also a bubble world, of dead secrets. How foolish to wait for culmination of a secret story! How foolish of a man to wait all night for of an old promise, the resurrection of forgotten There no stories, there no secret world, there are no secret friends. The House by Sea has been drowned, and even its ghosts have forgotten all, was nothing to The gate to the is not by a lock a Reality has the away. I remember the when Jay found four-fifths of life proved false. I world with tears; I remember that she bruised hands against the iron gate. How foolish bruise one's hands against nothingness! ANTI-CLIMAX "It is well," sighed Anonyma, "that little Jay last found Romance. Since first she came to arms--a toddling sceptic of have seen what she lacked, I have prayed that possessed perhaps be to give her Clue.... Yet to Bill Morgan it to show
 only one
shadow by the quarry fOr the moon tO cast UpoN thE tHyme. therE was no
voice but THe voIce of the sea. No passing buT the pEaCEful PAsSing oF
the lamBS dISTurBeD tHe tHiSTlEs and The FoxglovEs.

The sea roSe lIkE a wall across THe Night, a wall ThaT shut half of lIfe
Away. ThE sKy fELl likE a cUrtaiN on the LAnd, but There was nO pIEce to
bE Played, sO THe CurtAin was never raised.

oNe MAn waited all the Night tHrOUgH, LIke A chIld waiting FoR the
fAIries. ThE SeA GREw cALmer and calmer, The tide went DOwn, And the CoVe
sPRead ouT its lOnG SanDs like fingeRs inTo the sea. THere waS A shadow
ON the sanDs beloW thE quArry, ANd It May HaVE beEN tHe sHAdoW of a
housE. ANd PerhaPs whEN THE tidE caMe up At dawN it devoured olD
foOtprINts Upon tHe shoRe, thE pRints Of feet That wIlL never come back.
I ThinK that when The MoOn fLeD away INto oblIviOn, iT was not Only the
MOon ThAT FLeD, but also a bubble worLd, FULl Of dead seCrets.

HOW fOoLIsh to waiT fOr tHe cuLMInatiOn of A SeCret storY! How foOLiSh
Of a man tO wAit all NiGht For The reDEmptIon of aN old promIse, foR The
resurrectioN Of a forgotten rOMaNCE! THEre aRe nO secret storIes, tHEre
iS no sECrEt wORld, thEre arE nO SeCRet friends. The House bY tHe Sea hAs
beeN drowned, and evEn its ghostS HAVe forgotTen iT. afTEr all, there was
nOthinG to remembeR. the gate tO the HOuse is baRred, not by A LOck but
by A laUgh. reaLitY ANd Not adversity hAS BlowN tHe bubblE awAy.

I remeMbeR thE moMenT wHen Jay fouNd four-fiFtHs Of HeR liFe proVEd
false. I ReMemBeR thAt she BEsiegeD the wOrld WiTh TEarS; I rememBEr THAt
shE bRuIsed Her HaNds agAinsT The Iron gatE. How fooliSh tO BruiSe OnE's
hands Against nothinGnEss!



ANTI-CLImAx


"It Is well," SIGhed AnonYma, "that our little Jay has aT Last fouNd
ROmancE. SinCe first shE caMe to my ArmS--A toddlIng scePtic oF fOur--i
HAve seEN WhAt sHe Lacked, I havE PRayEd thaT I--Who pOssesseD it--might
perhaps be iNSpiRed to give her tHe CLue.... YET To YouNG BILl MOrGAn iT
WAs given to show heR
 only one
shadow by the qu arry for t he mo ontoca st u ponthe thyme. The r e wa s no
voice but the voi ce of  t h e se a .No pa ssing b u tt h e p ea ce ful  p a ss ing o f
t he lamb s disturbe d t he  thistles an d  t he foxglov es. 

The sea ro selike a  w all acros s t he ni ght, a wall t hat shutha l f of l i fe
away . Th e sk y fell like a cur t ai n  on the land,but th er e  w a s  no  pi ece to
bepl ayed, so thec ur t a i n w a s never raise d.

One man wai ted al lthe nightthrou gh ,  li ke a childwait ing for t he
fai r ies. Th e  sea gr ew cal mer  an d ca l me r,  th et ide we ntd own , and th eco ve
sp read o u t  its  lo ng s andslike fingersint o th e  se a. Th ere w as a  s hadow 
on th e san ds  below the quar ry,and it ma y h av e b ee n the shadow  of  ahouse.And per h aps  w h e n  t he tide came up at  d a w nit devou red ol d 
f oo t prints u po n t he s h o re, t he p r in ts of fe et tha t  w il l never  c ome ba ck .
I  th ink t h at w hen th e moon f led a w ay into oblivi o n, it was not on l y  t h e
mo onthat fled,buta lsoa bu b bl e w o rld,fullof de a d secrets.

How foo li sh towaitfor the culmi nation ofa s ecret st ory! Ho w  foolish
of aman t o wait all night fo r the  redempt ion of an o ld promi se,  fo r t her e su rrection of a f orgo tt en roma nce ! There  ar e n o s ecr et  stories,  there
i sno  s ec ret  worl d , therear e n osec ret f r iends.  TheHous eby the  Sea ha s 
b e e n dr ow ne d, a ndev en it s gh o sts  have f orgottenit. Afte ral l, ther e was
nothing  t o remember .The  gatet o  the Hou se is barred, not by al ock but 
by  a la ugh.  Realityand  not a dve r sity h as blo wn th ebub b l e awa y . 
I r em ember them o men t whe nJayfound f our-fifths of herl ife  proved
false . I  rem e m be r t h at she  b e sie g e d the world wit h tears; I  r e me mber thats hebr uised h er hand s aga i nst the  iron gat e. How fo ol isht o  br uise one's 
hands a gainst no t hingn e ss !


ANT I-CLIM AX 

"It i s well , " s ighed  Anony ma , "tha t our  l ittle Ja y has at last found
Rom ance.Since  fi rst she c ame tomy arms-- a to ddling sce pti c o f fou r-- I 
have  see n  w hat she l acke d , I havep ra yed t ha t I--who po s s e sse d it- -mi g ht
per haps  be inspired to g i ve her the Clu e... . Yet  to youn gBill Morgan it 
wa sg i ven to s ho w her
 only_one
shadow by_the quarry for the_moon to_cast_upon the_thyme._There was no
voice_but the voice_of the sea. No_passing but the_peaceful_passing of
the lambs disturbed the thistles and the foxgloves.

The sea rose like a wall_across_the night,_a_wall_that shut half of life
away._The sky fell like a_curtain on_the land, but there was no piece to
be_played,_so the curtain_was never raised.

One man waited all the night through,_like a child waiting for the
fairies._The sea grew_calmer_and_calmer, the tide went_down, and the cove
spread out its_long sands like fingers into the_sea. There was a shadow
on the sands_below the quarry, and it may_have been the shadow of_a
house. And_perhaps when the tide came_up at dawn_it devoured_old
footprints upon the_shore, the prints of feet that_will never come_back.
I think that when the moon_fled_away into oblivion,_it_was_not only_the
moon that fled,_but_also a_bubble_world, full of dead secrets.

How foolish_to_wait for the culmination of a secret_story! How foolish
of a_man_to wait all night_for the redemption of an_old promise, for the
resurrection of a_forgotten romance!_There are_no secret stories, there
is no secret world, there are no secret_friends. The House by the Sea_has
been drowned, and even_its ghosts_have_forgotten it. After_all,_there was
nothing_to remember. The gate to the House_is barred,_not by a lock but
by a_laugh. Reality and not_adversity_has blown the bubble away.

I remember_the moment when Jay found four-fifths_of her life proved
false. I_remember_that_she besieged the world with_tears; I remember that
she bruised her_hands against the_iron gate. How foolish to bruise one's
hands_against_nothingness!



ANTI-CLIMAX


"It is well," sighed Anonyma, "that_our_little Jay has at last found
Romance._Since_first_she came to my arms--a_toddling sceptic of four--I
have seen what_she lacked, I have prayed that I--who possessed it--might
perhaps_be inspired to_give her the Clue.... Yet_to_young_Bill Morgan it
was given to show her