WELCOME, COMRADES, to my literary refuge in Melmoth Hall. Here it is that I seek respite from the daily pressures of fashionability, æsthetic sensibility, and idleness between the pages of a superlative tale or the lines of an exquisite poem. Unfortunately, I am concurrently reading all of the most satisfactory texts in my collection, and I cannot suffer other readers to interrupt my slow progress. However, you should feel at liberty to peruse my own meagre works, sad tales that afford me a melancholy pleasure by candlelight. May they not offend you so that you deem it necessary to bring a suit against my person (unless it happens to be purple and well cut).
“And the terrors of death: A P.A.L.S. Æsthetic Adventure” (forthcoming)
“Aphorisms of a Bunburyist: The Occassional Wit and Wisdom of A Career Dandy”