In the vast reaches of the dry, cold night, thousands of stars were constantly appearing, and their sparkling icicles, loosened at once,… — Albert Camus Copy Share Image
How to Commit the Perfect Murder" was an old game in heaven. I always chose the icicle: the weapon melts away. — Alice Sebold Copy Share Image
People peep into boxes at moving stereoscopic prints, imagining they're in other worlds, and the crowd around a glassblower wonders whether icicles… — Haruo Shirane Copy Share Image
Blackened skeleton arms of wood by the wayside pointed upward to the convent, as if the ghosts of former travellers, overwhelmed by… — Charles Dickens Copy Share Image
