À mon chevet is a series of posts featuring a quote from whatever book is on my nightstand at the moment.
Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. He lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of the
Thursday, July 18, 2013
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