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A. M. Klein quotes
Where are the braves, the faces like autumn fruit, who stared at the child from the coloured frontispiece?
A. M. Klein
This is a grassy ghetto, and no home.
A. M. Klein
And my tears, too, have stained this heirloomed ground, When reading in these treatises some weird Miracle, I turned a leaf and found A white hair fallen from my father's beard.
A. M. Klein
The animals pale, the shine of the fur is lost, bleached are their living bones. About them watch as through a mist, the pious prosperous ghosts.
A. M. Klein