H. M. Tomlinson
Biography
(1873-1958)
Essays by H. M. Tomlinson
There are few books which go with midnight, solitude, and a candle.
I felt instantly that for once it might be even more pleasant to entertain an audience than to be one of the crowd and bored.
Talking largely of the sea is something like the knowing talk of young men about women; and what is a simple sailor man that he should open his mouth on mysteries?
The fear of the unknown, as in the terrific dark of a dream where flaming comets stream on undirected courses, numbed my little mind. I had found New York.
What are books and opinions? The creakings of an old house uneasy with the heavy remembrances and the melancholy of antiquity, and with some midnight presage of its finality.
There is no place as forlorn as that where man once was established and busy, where the patient work of his hands is all round, but where silence has fallen like a secret