‘For three days I have observed two large pictures in solid frames hanging on the wall before me, supported by a cord fastened horizontally behind the frames; these pictures have only one point of support, so that they are sensitive to the slightest movement. The wall goes from east to west, or the […]
‘Sometimes it happens like that, and we discover a new world in our own homelands.’
“It was the hair of the bright flaxon sort, which the poets have conventionally called ‘golden’, the hair one sees so often on the angels of the Italian primitive painters ‑ though not so often in living Italians. It is the hair which always seems to be more beautiful than any other.”
“Dr. Laird’s gone mad and the Brigadier is afraid he’ll start his machine again, sir.”