many red devils ran from my heart and out upon the page, they were so tiny the pen could mash them. And many struggled in the ink. It was strange to … - Stephen Crane

Alone in the kitchen, Horace stared with sombre eyes at the plate of food. For a long time he betrayed no sign of yielding. His mood was adamantine. He was resolved not to sell his vengeance for bread, cold ham, and a pickle, and yet it must be known that the sight of them affected him powerfully. The pickle in particular was notable for its seductive charm. He surveyed it darkly.

There was a man with tongue of wood who essayed to sing,
and in truth it was lamentable;
but there was one who heard the clip-clapper of this tongue of wood,
and knew what the man wished to sing,
and with that the singer was content.

The youth perceived that the time had come. He was about to be measured. For a moment he felt in the face of his great trial like a babe, and the flesh over his heart seemed very thin.