Anthology-Final

The Black Cat
I loathed, and dreaded,
and would have rid myself of the monster
had I dared
—it was now, I say,
The image of a hideous—of a ghastly thing—
of the GALLOWS!
—oh, mournful and terrible engine
of Horror and of Crime—
XLVIII
The outside pattern is a
florid arabesque, reminding
one of a fungus. If you can
imagine a toadstool in joints, an
interminable string of toadstools,
budding and sprouting in
endless convolutions,—why, that
is something like it.
That is, sometimes!
There is one marked peculiarity about this paper, a thing nobody
changes.
seems to notice but myself, and that is that it changes as the light
When the sun shoots in
through the east window—I
always watch for that first long,
straight ray—it changes so
quickly that I never can quite
believe it.
of Agony and of Death!
That is why I watch it always.
XLV I I
The Yellow Wallpaper