#2569

« I waited a good hour after the last flick­ering light had disappeared. Then I crept softly up to the house, and, concealed in its shadow, listened for sounds. There were none, except those strange, almost inexpressible voices which seem to come from nowhere in the dead of night. I do not know that anybody has ever noticed them; but I have always fancied that they were like the breathing of the earth—if such a thing were possible—for they come in regular, rhythmic pulsations. »

Geo E. Walsh, The Mysterious Burglar, 1901

#2511

Une jolie variation sur le thème de l’aiguille et de la botte de foin : « we are combing the meadow for a mustard seed. » Et pour dire que vous allez avoir des ennuis : « the devil will have his horns on your pillow« … Le langage très imagé de Nero Wolfe dans les années trente est fascinant.