ᐅ I was brooding, boy. Than which there is no richer pastime. It muffles one with rotting plumes. It gives forth sullen music. It is the smell of home. – Mervyn Peake | QuotesTrue.com

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I was brooding, boy. Than which there is no richer pastime. It muffles one with rotting plumes. It gives forth sullen music. It is the smell of home.

Mervyn Peake

Mervyn Peake (2008). “Titus Alone”, p.67, The Overlook Press

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