" And I cannot touch her face  And I cannot touch her hair, And I kneel to empty shadows-- Just memories of her grace; And her voice sings in the winds And in the sobs of dawn And among the flowers at night And from the brooks at sunrise And from the sea at sunset, And I answer with vain callings  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "

― William Hope Hodgson , The Collected Fiction, Vol. 4: The Night Land and Other Perilous Romances