Earlier lives drift by on silver soles, and the shadows of the damned descend into these sighing waters.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I tell you the groans of the damned in hell are the deep bass of the universal anthem of praise that shall ascend to the throne of my God for ever and ever.
I heard the old, old, men say 'all that's beautiful drifts away, like the waters.'
They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
Covetousness is both the beginning and the end of the devil's alphabet - the first vice in corrupt nature that moves, and the last which dies.
Vampires, werewolves, fallen angels and fairies lurk in the shadows, their intentions far from honorable.
Lives in eternity's sun rise.
Below us the Thames grew lighter, and all around below were the shadows - the dark shadows of buildings and bridges that formed the base of this dreadful masterpiece.
Suffering has roused them from the sleep of gentle life, and every day fills them with a terrible intoxication. They are now something more than themselves; those we loved were merely happy shadows.
As we descend deeper and deeper in this region its inhabitants become more and more modified, and fewer and fewer, indicating our approach towards an abyss where life is either extinguished, or exhibits but a few sparks to mark its lingering presence.
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn stand shadowless like silence, listening to silence.